


Dinner Date

by relic_amaranth



Series: Full Course [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bisexual OFC, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Learning How to Be A Couple, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reader-Insert, Romance, Slice of Life, Texting, assholes in love, bisexual reader
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2021-02-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 17:48:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 43,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21752479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/relic_amaranth/pseuds/relic_amaranth
Summary: Steve Rogers has a girlfriend– a prickly, generally asocial girlfriend, but they make it work. They have more in common than some people might think.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Original Female Character(s), Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Full Course [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1543312
Comments: 174
Kudos: 383





	1. Open Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Story Warnings: Reader-insert that verges on OFC, written in 1st person past tense, Reader/OFC (basically POV character) is written as female/bisexual/overweight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve Rogers doesn’t consider ‘being oblivious’ to be a bad trait. His date understands that a little bit better now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this done sooner than expected, yay! This sequel to “Lunch Buddy” is officially up and running and is, essentially, where I want to put all my cute-asshole-couple vignettes. So chapter lengths may vary. Also…right now I’m going to rate this story as M because of future ~couple things~ and whatnot, but I have some ideas for explicit stuff. The stuff I’m thinking of is not smut so much as funny-awkward, learning-how-to-be-a-couple-together sex(ish) scenes, but if I post them they’ll be in this same series in their own little sidestory. I’ll post a heads-up within this story if/when that happens. For now, please enjoy.

The holidays were over. The ground was covered in slippery gray slush. Everyone in the office was bitching about having to go to the gym again or talking about holiday disasters or moaning about being back from vacation.

And _I_ had a lunch date.

“Sign this please!” I told my boss and handed over a small stack of paper.

Even though I knew he didn’t drink, he somehow still looked hungover. “You seem chipper,” he grumbled. He dug for a pen and struggled to even click the end out, like the whole thing weighed fifty pounds in his hand.

“The holidays are over and people either had a great time or a terrible time. Either way, they’re all stuck back at work,” I said. “I’m a misery vampire; I feed off that shit.”

“Don’t swear at work, it’s unprofessional,” he grumped with absolutely no conviction and handed me back my papers.

“Thank you for the life-force!” I said and, because I was nice, didn’t immediately chide him for ‘professionalism’ when he flipped me off.

“I love your shirt,” K said as I walked by.

“Thanks,” I said and smoothed it out. It wasn’t _too_ nice, but it was new and I quite liked it and I wondered if Steve might compliment it too. That was a couple thing, right? Holy shit, we were a _couple_. “It’s very comfortable.”

“How are _you_ the most cheerful person here?” Eli, my hapless cubicle neighbor, asked.

“I delight in everyone else’s torment,” I said and sat down.

“Yeah, that tracks,” one of my other co-workers said and they got a laugh out of it, which was fine because I was ultimately winning the ‘happy’ game.

Because _I_ had a _lunch date_ – and nobody but me (and my _date_ ) had any idea. Which was exactly how we wanted it.

Steve and I had had a brief conversation (in between all the making out because, wow, I had forgotten how nice _that_ was) about how this relationship was going to go, and we agreed that we generally wanted to keep it to ourselves. His reasons were boring and depressing– ‘I have enemies and blah blah blah.’ Mine were practical and realistic: people were nosy. And _annoying_. And we each had enough baggage we were bringing to the table without letting other people butt in around it too.

His friends were an exception– if I thought about it too hard I would curl up in a ball and die of embarrassment because Sam had totally ratted me out and there were betting _pools, plural_ , that I didn’t (well, mostly,) want to know the details of– but to everyone else in the world we were happily single and not looking because relationships were a lot of work and people were ‘meh.’ Well, we related to both but Steve couldn’t really put forth my contributed excuse (“excuse,” bah,) to the public and I could respect that. Ultimately, while I very much enjoyed kissing him in private, I didn’t like drawing attention to myself at any time and so I couldn’t imagine doing that in public.

However I was a little sad to miss out on the inevitable shitshow that always came of ‘hot guy dates woman of average-or-below-average looks.’ Or maybe they would have just contorted themselves into denial. I still found it pretty hilarious that I had once leaned in to whisper something to Steve and ten minutes later had gotten lectured by someone that it “looked inappropriate” and “a PA should know better” and I had laughed until my stomach hurt. Meanwhile, Steve had once been seen standing next to some random (but very pretty) SHIELD lady and certain tabloids went nuts with “Captain America’s Secret Girlfriend?!”

“You look happy.”

I had a pretty good reason to be so, since I was on my lunch break and sitting and waiting for my date, who had just arrived as his own beam of sunlight on this otherwise gloomy day. That and ‘secret girlfriend’ was funnier to me now, especially as Steve sat down next to me. Not too close– we still had personal bubbles and I doubted those would be going away entirely– but it _felt_ different.

“People are coming back from the holidays, resolving to eat better, and making plans to go to the gym,” I said. “I did not have to hang out with annoying family members, making my doctor sigh heavily is one of my favorite pastimes, and I can’t cross the threshold of a room containing a treadmill. So it’s more that everyone else is miserable. It has been kind of fun though; I made my boss flip me off. How has your day been?”

“Well I haven’t made anybody flip me off–”

“Slacker.”

“–But I _have_ had a pretty great day so far,” Steve said and flashed a brilliant smile. “I mean…this year has had an amazing start.”

Amazing. He was trying to crack me, but I would not bend. (Yet.) “Oh yeah?” I asked like I had no idea what he was talking about. “You make some good resolutions? Gonna get to the gym more often, eat a little healthier?”

He looked so offended (by the second part, I _knew_ ) that I burst out laughing, caught up in a swell of affection so strong I really wanted to move closer. Ah well– I could do that later. Steve, however, did lean in like he was going to touch me, but he caught himself just in time and fumbled for his drink to cover up.

“This is going to be harder than I thought,” he said, blushing a little.

“Maybe,” I said and took my cup. “By the way, fair warning– every time I want to touch you, I’m banking it in my head for later.”

“Oh.” He brightened. “That’s a great idea.” His smile took a wicked little turn and _that_ should not have been a face he made in public, geeze. “Wait; are you sure that’s a good idea, sweetheart? This relationship is still pretty new; we shouldn’t move _too_ fast…”

I put my hand to my mouth like I was scandalized. “Mr. _Rogers_ ; what sort of girl do you take me for? I’m logging hand holding or maybe a hug or little kiss. Just what do _you_ want to do in such a public place?”

He got really red and I cackled. I leaned in. “You know,” I said quietly right into his ear. He squirmed. “I was all focused on the kissing and maybe some cuddling; I totally forgot all the ways I can tease you now.”

He was predictably flushed when I sat back, but the excess color left his face and he studied me closer. It was my turn to squirm. “You really should be careful saying things like that,” he said, more measured but with a hint of mischief in his eyes.

“Why’s that?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, but the devious smile he bore made my chest all aflutter. What an asshole.

Though I still wasn’t much for public affection, I liked having the excuse of sharing my headphones to sit closer to him, and when I lightly brushed my fingers against his, under the table, he responded by holding my hand. I distracted myself by flipping through some songs.

“‘Slayer,’ huh?” Steve asked and propped his chin on his hand. “Is this like when cats show affection by kneading you with their claws?”

“Shut up,” I said. But I laced my fingers with his and he squeezed my hand in return. So maybe I was wrapped around his pinkie– literally _and_ figuratively. At the moment, it was the opposite of a problem.


	2. Boundaries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Testing boundaries is always a learning experience, even when you’re in a relationship and have known each other for a while. Even especially then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me when starting this chapter: oh cool, now that I’m into the relationship vignettes I can really switch up the chapter lengths; maybe this part can even be less than 1000 words!
> 
> Me 2000 words in: can’t…stop…won’t…stop…

For all my talk, I really didn’t know how to deal with how _much_ I wanted to touch Steve. And it wasn’t even the predictably fun part– _that_ was well out of reach considering I suddenly didn’t know how to fucking _cuddle_ right.

It shouldn’t have been so hard. I had accidentally fallen asleep on him a number of times already even pre-coupling so why I kept at least an inch between us at all times now was not something I could explain, even to myself. In public it wasn’t such a big deal, preferable even, but we hung out at my place often enough that being close shouldn’t have felt so anathema. Cuddling in private was the best part of being in a relationship.

Steve tilted his head my way and I braced myself for whatever question he wanted to ask, but he just stared at me for a few moments and then held out the bowl of popcorn. I relaxed without having to consciously force myself to and I took a handful. He went back to watching whatever was on, and I took advantage of his distraction to scoot just a little bit closer to him…and a little closer, and a little closer, until we were pressed against each other. Lightly, but there was contact. It didn’t quite scratch the itch, but until I could find the courage to drape myself over him like the human blanket I suddenly wanted to be, it would keep for now.

“Is everything all right?”

I wished I had an honest answer for that. “It’s all good,” I said and kicked him under the table. “How’s your sandwich?”

He lost the pursed concern that drew his forehead together and he smiled at me. “It’s really great,” he said. He lifted it briefly. “Are you sure you don’t want more?”

“I’m fine,” I said. It was mostly true. Mostly. “It’s good though.”

Without a word he broke off another piece and set it on a napkin next to me. I ignored it for a good several seconds before I caved and ate it. He smirked at me and I stuck my tongue out at him.

“Ew,” he said, even though there was nothing to ‘ew’ at, and we got back to a comfortable silence.

At least, I thought it was comfortable– until he cleared his throat, looked around, leaned in, and said, “I’m going to be heading out this afternoon. For…work.”

My stomach did a flip as my head filled with explosions and fire and– “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I asked and leaned in to meet him.

“I wanted to have a nice lunch,” he said. “And I can’t really talk about it, but I wanted you to know.”

“How long?” I asked. He looked apologetic. “Oh, that’s part of the–” He nodded and I sighed. Shit. Shit. “Okay. Okay; I…come back safe?”

“I will. I promise,” he said and gave my hand such a quick and slight squeeze I almost would have missed it had my eyes not dropped down at that moment. I looked up at him again and he smiled. He needed more work on that ‘reassuring’ aspect; his eyes always had a hard line to them when he got ‘work’ on the brain. “I’ve got good people looking out for me. Okay?”

“Okay,” I said, because there was nothing else I could do. It would be okay. It had been okay thus far. Aside from that whole stint in the hospital, but even that he had recovered from really quick. And ‘good people,’ huh? “You weren't allowed to tell me that part, were you?”

“Are you gonna snitch on me?” he asked, mischief lightening the hard set of his face ever-so-slightly.

“Hmmm.” I sat back and pretended to think about it. I leaned right back in, not wanting to be away from him for long when I would be getting a lot of that soon. “I won’t tell…if you promise to take me out for a meal when you get back.”

He shook his head, but he was fighting a losing battle with a smile when he turned his eyes up through thick lashes to look at me. “Blackmailed by my own girl. I shoulda seen it coming.”

“Considering I’m pretty sure I’ve already blackmailed you once before, you should have,” I said, letting my feet swing and not caring one whit every time I touched his shin. He didn’t seem to mind it, it certainly wasn’t hard, and it was easy contact. “I’m going to pick the place.”

He sighed heavily, like I was really twisting his arm. “All right; I agree to your terms.”

My phone started buzzing with my silent alarm and I was suddenly sad that we were out in public. But we both stood up and started packing up, getting ready to go back out into a bitterly cold day. Fitting.

“Here,” Steve said and even helped me put my jacket back on. I let him do so without joke or complaint. “I’ll walk you back to work.”

“Don’t do anything that makes me run away in disgrace,” I said, and aimed my smile at him so he would know I was joking. He scowled, but that just made me laugh.

“You’re not funny,” he said as we walked.

“I’m hilarious,” I said. I pressed against him to dodge another couple hogging almost the whole sidewalk– it was a little satisfying when they did a double-take so hard the man almost fell into the gutter. “And I’m going to keep working on your sense of humor until you see it.”

“You’re planning to wear me down then?” Steve asked. “Others have tried.”

“Probably with stuff like sense and reason and real honest effort,” I said and poked his side. I allowed myself to drag my hand down his forearm before I slipped it back in my own pocket. We got to work far too quickly, but before we could turn the corner onto the much busier street, Steve turned to face me and leaned his side against the brick wall. I mirrored him and took in the sight of him, whole and safe.

“Come back in one piece,” I said.

“I will,” he said.

“You better,” I said. “You owe me lunch. Or dinner. Or maybe even breakfast. I haven’t decided yet.”

“You might want to think on that while I’m gone,” he said. “So that you’re ready to pick a place when I get back.”

“I’ll have to really think about it. I might text you for ideas,” I said. “Wait– can I text you? While you’re away? It won’t…would it be distracting, or do you turn your phone off, or–”

“You can text,” he said. “I use a different phone for the contact I need. I might not be able to reply right away, but I’ll be able to see it when I get back.”

“Hm.” I liked that. “Cool. Then I’m going to text you the whole thought process, put something important in the middle, and then put some more nonsense at the end. Be prepared; your reading comprehension will be graded when you get back.”

“I can’t wait to text you _my_ stream-of-consciousness at three in the morning,” he said, but he was really grinning.

That sight I saved to memory. “I gotta go win some bread or something. Be safe.”

“I will,” he said like a promise, and even in the midst of a sidewalk in New York while pedestrians and cyclists and cars made a moderate ambient cacophony, that sound was better than any hug I could have gotten.

Wednesday came and went and while I sent a few texts, Steve didn’t reply.

On Thursday I texted him a few more times in a half-hearted attempt at filling his phone with nonsense like I had threatened, but I worried about regretting something I said and I worried about irritating him too much and I worried about _him_. So while I made a token effort at annoyance, I left it at that– just a token.

On Friday I considered going out but ended up being too grumpy to deal with people, so I flopped around uselessly in my apartment and waited for it to be a time when I could go to bed and not wake up ready for the day at two in the morning.

It was about nine when my phone buzzed. I stared at it for a moment but when it buzzed a second time I scrambled to mute the TV and then snatched it off the table.

Steve: I am officially “cleared for civilian contact”  
Steve: That’s a real thing SHIELD has by the way  
Me: Well  
Me: We do have a lot of cooties

I thought about it for a…well, probably too long, but I said “fuck it” and sent along a little kissy emoji.

Steve: I don’t mind those cooties :)

I grinned. We were so gross. It was kinda fun.

Me: How are you?  
Steve: I’m okay. A little banged up, but just a little.  
Me: I don’t know whether to send a frowny face or make a bad joke about kissing it better  
Steve: Is there an angry kissing face?  
Me: I’ll have to look for one  
Me: If I’m going to be this gross all the time  
Me: I should have SOMETHING to show my true nature  
Steve: You’re softer than that  
Me: Sshhhh I have a reputation  
Steve: With other people  
Steve: I know you better

I smiled. ‘Softer than that’ indeed.

Me: You can’t tell anyone  
Steve: It’s our secret ;)  
Me: You're not going to blackmail me?  
Me: Hey speaking of  
Me: How banged up is banged up?  
Me: You want to go out tomorrow?  
Me: I found a place that has good brunch stuff  
Me: Or maybe you need to sleep  
Me: Or take a break from people  
Me: It’s okay if you need a breather  
Me: Please save me from my rambling  
Steve: I’d love to go to brunch with you tomorrow  
Me: Phew thank you  
Me: Just for that I’ll pretend you didn’t type that sentence   
Steve: I appreciate that  
Steve: I’m sorry to do this but I’m tired  
Steve: And I want to be well-rested when I see you tomorrow  
Steve: So I’m going to bed soon   
Me: Okay. Meet at 10am?  
Me: I’ll text you the place  
Steve: Sounds great  
Steve: I’ll see you tomorrow  
Me: See you then

I putzed around for a little while before I remembered to look up the address, but when I was going to send it to him I considered that he was probably already conked out and when he woke up he’d only look for the location.

Me: Sleep well  
Me: I’m glad you’re home safe

I then buried those under several other texts about what kind of food they had and what the best-looking things were and how good they sounded before I finally sent him the address and then turned in for the night. I actually did want him to see all of the messages, but…I didn’t want it to be a big deal. It wasn’t a big deal. Steve was home and safe and I would see him the next day and everything was just fine.

“Are you sure you’re okay to be out?”

“I’m practically all healed up,” Steve said, with a hint of attitude, like he hadn’t just fucking _winced_ while trying to grab a bottle of syrup. He smiled at me for what must have been his idea of reassurance. I stared at his side, looked pointedly at him, and then looked back and forth from point a to point b a few more times until he rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath. It sounded rude, so that was reassuring at least.

“Is it a ‘bruised’ or ‘bandaged’ situation?” I asked.

He stuffed a big forkful of waffles into the entry point for the black hole he called a stomach, and barely chewed before he swallowed. He was such a terrible eater but I was too happy to see him again that I didn’t jump on him for it. “A little bit of both,” he said and shifted. “The bandages aren’t necessary now and they itch, but I’m also a little sore. It’s not a great combination.”

That sounded uncomfortable, and his place was a little bit of a distance from where we were. My home, however… “Do you want to go to my place after this?” I asked him. “You can take the bandages off and we can just…chill for a while.”

He smiled, that time for real. “That sounds perf–”

“Hi lovebirds.”

I jolted back from the table as someone– two someones– slid into the empty chairs on our sides. It was just Clint and Natasha, but they looked shockingly normal and well-matched. Clint looked nice, like a normal person and not an absolute disaster, while Natasha seemed mildly dressed down in an obviously well-loved jacket and muted colors.

“Is your hat a polar bear?” I asked, staring at her beanie. It had little ears and everything. “That is so fucking cute.”

“Thanks,” she said and pulled over a menu from the little stand in the center of the table.

Steve cleared his throat. “Natasha. Clint. What are you doing here?”

“Looking into a new lunch place,” Natasha said, not even looking at him. “It’s a free country, _Steve_.”

“Then maybe you can get your own table, _Natasha_.”

I had no idea what the hostility was all about but Clint started picking at Steve’s plate, distracting him long enough for Natasha to lean closer to me and say my name. “So you’re making an honest man out of our captain?” she said.

“Oh my god _Natasha_.” Steve was _so red_ I practically had to smother myself to keep from laughing. “We talked about this!”

“We did,” she agreed easily but angled her body towards me. Something about her face made it easy for me to stop laughing. “You said I couldn’t talk to her while she was on her own. So now you get to be present for it.”

At first I couldn’t fathom what ‘it’ was, until I took in Steve’s face (a mixture of annoyed and concerned), Natasha’s body language (very business-like), what Natasha had said (about making an “honest man” out of Steve), and added it all together.

“Is it shovel-talk time?” I asked in wonder. It seemed so unnecessary, considering Natasha was, by all accounts, exceedingly competent and I had almost accidentally taken myself out with a stapler just a few days ago, but it was also oddly flattering. I _warranted_ the shovel talk. Also, how many people got The Talk from an actual terrifying assassin?

“Steve is our friend and while I’m sure you also have his best interests at heart, well…” Natasha laced her fingers together and leaned forward, smiling patiently. “It’s best to make sure we all know the consequences, yes?”

I agreed. Mostly in theory, because I couldn’t imagine doing anything to Steve that would require half of the things she started talking about. But while sitting there, getting threatened by a woman who went into things that made Steve and even Clint stop eating and look a little ill, I felt…happy. And it wasn’t that the topics weren't gruesome or the idea of hurting Steve wasn’t upsetting or that I doubted she had slit a man’s throat with a piece of his own ribcage, or that she wasn’t very serious when she said all of that to me– it was _because_ all of those things.

Hurting Steve was a terrible thought and Natasha was a terrifying lady who wanted to protect him. I was in a position where I _could_ hurt him and he trusted me not to, his friends trusted me not to. The shovel talk was part performance but mostly serious and it pinged something in me. The part of me that craved validation that this was real and wouldn’t fade away because I got too close was pretty well satisfied. The lonely part of me wished I had someone who cared enough to do a shovel talk like that. Though I doubted _anyone_ could match Natasha’s veracity.

“Any questions?” she asked.

Clint was back to picking at Steve’s food because Steve was busy hiding his face in his hand but also peeking one eye out that he used to glare at Natasha. I considered, but Steve looked legitimately kind of pissed so I raised my hand.

“Yes?” Natasha asked.

“If I ever hurt him but then managed to make it up a little somehow, would you kill me with that thigh-choking thing Maria talked about?”

Clint choked. Not because of thighs, too bad for him, but Steve patted him on the back. I imagined he had that look on his face like he was questioning all of his life choices, but Natasha was staring at me too intently for me to look away. Had I been joking I would have crumbled into apologies, but…it seemed like information that would be good to have.

“It would have to be a decent show of making it up,” she decided and sat back, out of mob enforcer mode. “Like jumping between him and a bullet. Note–”

“Look at the time, we have to go,” Steve said and stood up quickly, fumbling with his wallet and throwing some money on the table. “Enjoy lunch on us. Um, can we– can we go? Like we discussed?”

He was practically begging, and since I was a merciful sort I stood up and put my jacket on. I wanted to help Steve with his but he seemed to forget he was injured and was ready and raring to go by the time I pushed my chair in.

“Nice seeing you guys,” I said as he walked ahead to the door.

“Don’t forget what we talked about,” Natasha said and Clint waved.

I waved in return (while Steve practically tapped his foot impatiently) and said cheerily, “I’ll never sleep again!”

It wasn’t until we were down the street that Steve breathed again. I sighed and pressed closer to him. “I swear if you hurt yourself again…”

“I didn’t.” Steve buried himself further into his scarf. “I’ve just had enough violence this week; I don’t really need to listen to any more.”

“Oh.” If that didn’t make me feel like an asshole. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He was quiet for a moment. “I just don’t like to think about you getting shot.”

That was sweet. In an odd way, but that was sort of par for the course. However. “ _That_ was the part that got you? Not what she did to the guy’s spleen?”

Steve shrugged. “It’s Natasha. I’m sure he deserved it.”

“Well, I don’t plan on deserving it. How about that?”

“Good,” Steve said. “Because Natasha’s one of my best friends and I love her, but I don’t think she was exaggerating much.”

“Oh I know she wasn’t,” I said.

“You sound too cheerful when you say that.”

I shrugged. “Getting ‘The Talk’ is kind of…cool? Like a rubber acceptance stamp. It’s terrifying and I like it. Much like this whole thing between us.”

Steve grinned at me and I couldn’t help but smile back.

But when we got back to my place, I felt awkward again and sent him off to the bathroom right away in the hopes that I could get myself back to normal in the meantime. The thing was– the little touches we had in public were nice, but even if we weren't keeping this on the down-low I wouldn’t have wanted to go further than that. Maybe a hug or something would be good, but I really didn’t need the PDA. When we were alone…I wanted _all_ of it. I wanted more than I maybe deserved at such an early stage in a relationship and I wanted more to _not_ scare Steve away because of it.

I breathed. Okay then, I just needed to temper myself and consciously think of taking it slow. That should be easy, considering Steve was still coming off an injury.

“I’m so glad I let you talk me into keeping a pair of these slippers here,” Steve said, coming out of the bathroom in just his base clothes and somehow looking like he lived here, mussed hair and all. I wanted to wrap around him like a boa constrictor.

So maybe it was easier thought than done.

It wasn’t even that easy to think, as we settled in to watch TV; I became overly conscious of where we each sat and how close we got to each other. I made sure Steve was comfy in the corner of the couch with all my nicest pillows, but when he extended his arm to welcome me against him I shied away, citing his injury, and sat near the other end of the couch in…well, honestly, semi-misery. I had never been so uncomfortable in my own home. I had never been so uncomfortable around _Steve_. What was wrong with me?

“Are you okay?” Steve asked after a while.

“I’m fine,” I said and tried to tune back in to the movie. I didn’t even know what we were watching and there was no hope of me finding out now in the middle of a car chase, but I made a show of it. I smiled back at Steve, who looked like he was mostly comfortable, but he eyed me…not warily, per se, but there was definitely some concern there.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

“Yes,” I said. “I…”

But I saw his hand resting, perhaps just instinctively, on his side, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away. And I realized– I hadn’t touched him barely at all since I’d seen him home. He had just been out doing God-only-knew-what, had gotten hit and hurt, and I was too afraid and self-conscious to hardly even lay a _hand_ on him.

Fuck that.

I moved carefully and hugged him. It was awkward, because I was trying to be careful and our positions on the couch meant I had to kind of lay on him, but Steve let out a sigh that sounded relieved and wrapped his arms around me to hold me closer. “I won’t break,” he murmured.

It was all I needed to hold him as close as I possibly could. He gripped me even tighter. “I’m okay.”

“I know.”

“I’m not complaining at all, but it doesn’t feel like you know.”

I smiled. “I wouldn’t be holding you this tight if I thought it would hurt you.” I didn’t know what to say next, so I ended up just telling him the truth. “I’ve actually wanted to do this for a while.”

He moved his hand to rest it on my back “This is nice. Why haven’t you?”

“I don’t want to be clingy.”

“Fuck that,” he said. He moved his hands again to grip me. “You could always ask.”

“You promise you’ll say ‘no’ if you don’t want to?” I lifted my head to look at him. “I don’t want to pressure you into doing something.”

“Sweetheart I never let you pressure me into doing something. Sometimes I’ll even do something _I_ don’t want to do because you warned me against it. If I don’t want something, I’ll say no. Can I trust you to do the same?”

I thought about that. “Yeah,” I said. “I can do that.” And I meant it. Now that he knew, I could trust Steve to tell me to back off if he wasn’t into it and I knew there would be days I probably wouldn’t want much contact, but I could tell him and we’d work it out. But for the moment, the need had finally been met and I reveled in finally feeling comfortable. There was just one last thing on my mind.

“Hey Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Did that second sentence apply to the Super Green Smoothie I told you looked extra gross even for a green smoothie?”

Steve tensed in obvious preparation for a giant lie. “No.”

“I _knew_ it.”

“Shut up,” Steve said and pulled me closer.

The way we ended up coiled together made leaving a hard proposition, and the only way I moved was to rest more comfortably against his chest.


	3. Crossword

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lazy day in doing puzzles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Busy busy. Hope you like domestic fluffy nonsense because that’s what’s on the docket this week <3

“Eleven across, possible antonym for strength.”

“Decrepitude.”

Crossword puzzles were a lot more fun with a sentient encyclopedia. Or with a partner who spent way too much time reading. To-may-to, to-mah-to.

“Hm…okay, seven down, ‘a sharp–’”

“Am I doing this crossword puzzle or are you?”

Steve was trying too hard to sound annoyed, so I didn’t really feel bad for distracting him from his sketchbook. He was hogging the corner of the couch so that I couldn’t see what he was drawing and I knew it was just because he thought it bugged me. And he was sort of right– he kept looking at me and if he was making a caricature he was going to be in for a bad time.

“We’re doing it _together_.” I leaned against him and tilted my head far back enough to look at him upside-down. “As a _couple_.”

He rolled his eyes and made a show of pushing me off of him, though he didn’t follow through. I sat up regardless so I could figure out the rest of it. Or rather, so _we_ could figure out the rest of it. Okay, mostly he. “Now where…uh…how about eight across, ‘devil’s counsel?’”

It took him half a second. “Advocate?”

I wrote it down. “That’s a shitty clue.” The next one wasn’t so bad, but I waited a few seconds. “Seven down, ‘a sharp return?’”

“You know I can tell that you’re just pretending to think about it?” Steve said and smiled when I nudged him. “Riposte.”

Well. If he wanted me to work on a crossword puzzle, I would work on a crossword puzzle. I scooted well into the other end of the couch and used a book for a base as I held the paper up to block him from sight. In the empty space I went to work making boxes of my own.

“What are you writing?” Steve asked in a tone someone might have for a child hiding something behind their back. Rude.

“ _Notes_ ,” I said snobbishly, as he deserved.

“You know I can hear you smile even when I can’t see you?”

“You know I can tell you’re an asshole even when I can’t see you?”

He laughed and that certainly didn’t help me in my attempt to scowl at him, so I kept the paper up and poked blindly at him with my foot. I got his thigh a few times before he grabbed my ankle and put my foot on the cushion. I decided to help him out by shoving both my feet under his leg. He didn’t protest, so I wiggled my toes– and I laughed when he jumped a little.

“I liked it better when you were conning me into doing your crossword,” Steve said and when I peeked he was back to drawing. If it was a caricature, I was probably getting a Groucho Marx face.

“I did the first one on my own. So you were just helping with the rest,” I said.

“What am I helping with next?”

I blew a raspberry at him. But it only took maybe another minute before I had everything all set up. “Hm…okay Smarty Pants; five down, ‘morsel.’”

“Snack.”

I wrote that over the word already scribbled in sloppy boxes, then tapped the pen against my lips.

“Nine across, ‘pleasing especially to taste.’”

“Delicious.”

“Six down, a Sesame Street regular loves it.”

I was watching him then and his eyes narrowed. He was indeed a smart– “Cookie.”

I smirked hard. “Seven down, ‘unique.’”

He sighed. “You said you would _share_.”

“Oh, I think you just got five down, ‘thing Steve did not do with–’”

Steve threw a pillow at me and crunched the paper. “How dare you,” I said and tried to flatten it back out, but it was pretty well fucked. “You ruined my puzzle.”

He rolled his eyes. But before I could caution him that he was going to strain something if he kept that up he said, “Your phone is probably charged by now.”

That was a terrible deflection considering my phone had to come back from the dead, but I leaned over to check if it was at least charged up enough to use a little. Instead I saw a full battery. “What the…” I pulled it off the portable Stark charger Steve had leant me and my phone was, in fact, fully charged and operational. From nothing, in about… “How long was I doing that stupid crossword?!”

Steve laughed. “I told you it would go fast.”

“Yeah but that’s…huh.” I opened it up and flipped through some applications. “That’s crazy fast. I guess in retrospect I should have asked what phones it’s safe for, but, hey, nothing’s broken.”

“Tony said it’s okay for any phones, not just Stark tech,” Steve said, shading something in.

“Even ‘older’ stuff I guess,” I said, remembering Stark’s pantomimed fainting spell when he saw my phone. Apparently he didn’t dismiss stuff like it outright though, so good for him?

“Well, he is a genius.”

“Just being a genius doesn’t mean you can’t be an idiot sometimes.”

Steve looked at me without moving anything aside from his two eyeballs and one single eyebrow. “How does that work?”

“Idiot genius,” I said. Then I considered who I was talking to. “Maybe that’s too close to home. I mean, you’re incredibly smart too, but also kind of an idiot. Or, wait–” I didn’t like the way that came out. “I meant ‘idiot’ affectionately.” That didn’t really make it any better. “Never mind.”

“It’s okay, I know what you mean,” Steve said.

“I still don’t want to call you names,” I said. I navigated through my phone and downloaded a new app. “I’d rather save them for if you deserve them. Or, judging by Sam’s stories, _when_ you deserve them.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked.

“Yup.” I pulled one foot out and poked him hard with my big toe.

“If you’re trying to get me to leave this spot you’re going to have to try harder,” Steve said.

“I don’t want you gone,” I said. “You’re an excellent footwarmer.”

“And crossword dictionary.”

“Speaking of…” I cleared my throat and a giggle escaped me at the theme of the app’s daily puzzle.

“No,” Steve said firmly. “We’re done with crosswords.”

“Just one more.”

“No.”

“Well _I’m_ going to keep going. You don’t have to play,” I said. I looked over the prompts and they were so easy. Too easy. “The theme is… _the Avengers_.”

Steve said my name in a tone full of warning, but he couldn’t fight his smile hard enough. It pushed through in full spite of him. Excellent.

“Ten down, probably the most competent Avenger.” Steve was silent so I answered, “Ah yes, ‘Black Widow.’”

Steve let out the tiniest little snort.

“‘Mostly a recluse but can pack away an impressive amount of appetizers,’” I said and ‘thought.’ “Must be Bruce.”

Steve shot a glance that I happened to catch. He wasn’t drawing anymore. I started to race through the rest of them. “Can break out into an impressive rendition of “Major-General’s Song,” Hawkeye. Can light up a room both figuratively and literally and will do so without any provocation; Thor. Can get so drunk he doesn’t know how to spell ‘fuck,’ obviously Iron Man. Next…oh, hmm…this is a tough one…”

“We’re done with crossword puzzles,” Steve said and shut his book.

“I’m not; I’ve gotta–” Steve swiped at my phone and almost got it. “Hey!” He moved in but I squirmed away. “This is really hard, I’ve gotta– Steve!” I curled up like an armadillo as he practically cocooned me. “I’ve gotta think; ‘this Avenger almost fell on his face in the middle of Manhattan because he was checking out an attractive man’s ass as he–’”

Steve stopped holding back and went all in to get my phone. Like _that_ was going to stop me from ragging on him.

Though, admittedly, wrestling with fourteen-across was more fun than I had been led to believe.


	4. Helloooo Nurse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For when taking care of yourself isn’t enough, it’s nice to have a helping hand.

It started on Monday morning when pulling myself out of bed was even harder than usual. At the time I chalked the feeling up to “fucking _Monday_ ” and went on my way.

It continued during a meeting when I felt vaguely queasy and more irritated than usual, but that could be explained by a) Monday morning meeting with b) terrible snacks and c) the meeting was about an audit we were having next week which meant this week was going to be busy as _fuck_.

It wasn’t until that night, when I was standing in the middle of the grocery store and wishing for everyone in the world to disappear with more fervor than I usually did, with sweat starting to bead on the back of my neck, that I realized.

I was fucking _sick_.

“Hey,” my boss said, leaning into my cubicle the next morning. “I’m sorry but we’ve got a couple of people still out with the flu and I need you to– oh no.”

I wasn’t sure what gave it away– the bottle of medicine, the mug of (now cold) tea, the practically-empty bottle of orange juice, or the fact that I looked like a corpse had spent a few days in the tropics. Well, that last one was more a judgment on how I felt, but I doubted I looked much better.

“I’m fine,” I croaked and swiped a fresh tissue to cough into.

“Uh huh.” He leaned back and half-hid behind the dinky little wall. “Given that we’re understaffed I’m going to ignore common sense and take you at your word. You think you’ve got time to take on a few more things?”

“Yeah, what’s–” _Wait a minute._ “People are “still” out with the flu? _Who_.”

“Nuh uh; I am not making your hit list for you,” he said and took a step back. “I’ll, uh…email you the details. And get you a mask.”

“No,” I said, already turning back to my computer. “I am going to infect _all_ of you.”

I did cave and accept the mask– mostly because whenever someone came up needing something, the second they saw it they stopped talking and walked away. It made for a nice quiet workday, which was sorely needed when my productivity was way down just due to wallowing in misery.

There was one person, though, that I couldn’t dodge.

Steve: Hey  
Steve: How’s your day going?

I rubbed my eyes. Shit. I really didn’t want him to see me when I felt so gross and tired and miserable.

Me: Hectic  
Me: A lot of work going on  
Me: And I’m coming down with something  
Me: I am a bundle of fun

I hoped he would be scared off by that.

I must have been _very_ out of it.

Steve: I’m sorry  
Steve: Do you need me to bring anything by tonight?

I stared up at the ceiling for a minute. That was so thoughtful. And tempting.

Me: No  
Me: But thank you  
Me: I’m gonna go home eat soup and die for 12 hours  
Steve: Please don’t die  
Me: Well okay  
Me: Just for you  
Steve: That’s sweet  
Steve: You’re already sick aren’t you?  
Me: How dare you  
Me: I can be nice

I then sent him a middle finger. And followed it up with a heart. We were dating, after all.

Steve: So I see

He then sent me a red heart. That made me smile.

Steve: Feel better  
Steve: Are we still on for Friday?  
Me: Yeah I’ll be over it by then  
Me: It’s a pretty low grade bug

“You know it’s weird when you can’t see the lower half of someone’s face but you know they’re making one?”

“What face do you think I’m making?” I asked my co-worker without even looking at him.

Me: gtg. Talk to you later.  
Steve: I hope you have a good day regardless of being sick.  
Steve: I know I said I was busy but it’s mostly ‘on call’ type stuff.  
Steve: So call or text if you need anything. I’m still available.

And another heart. That was nice, but my co-worker was waiting so I sighed and got back to work. After how this week was already going I was looking forward to Friday as much as I was looking forward to feeling better. In the meantime I would consume medicine and soup and sleep it off.

Except that when I dragged my sorry carcass home I was too queasy to eat and too uncomfortable to sleep for more than an hour at a time. Needless to say, the next day was a whole new measurement of misery. I got through it by self-medicating maybe a little more than I should have and as soon as the working day was done I could barely remember anything that happened. As soon as I got home I crashed.

For a short while. That night was awful, filled with intermittent bouts of being actively sick and, during the calmer periods, trying anything to knock myself out only to have my attempts fail at every turn. Eventually I did manage to conk out for a solid hour and when I woke up it felt like a ray of sun was breaking through the clouds. I didn’t feel great– I was still consuming whatever liquid looked as likely to kill me as cure me, and probably single-handedly funding the down payment on some Kleenex exec’s new yacht– but I no longer glared at my co-workers for having the audacity to exist in the same universe as me.

Steve: I am ready for tomorrow  
Me: SAME  
Steve: How are you feeling?  
Me: Not perfect but much better  
Me: Ready for pizza and laying on the couch while not sick  
Steve: ‘Low grade’ bug huh?  
Me: Shush  
Me: I’m better now and that’s what matters  
Steve: Well  
Steve: I can’t argue with that  
Me: Today is truly an amazing day  
Steve: Tempted to send a middle finger but I know you would enjoy that too much  
Me: Do it. Give in…  
Steve: I just rolled my eyes so hard it hurt  
Me: That’s your fault for not being well-practiced  
Me: See I’m helping  
Steve: Shut up  
Steve: ;)  
Steve: I’ll see you tomorrow night

And a heart. After a few seconds of waffling I sent him a heart couched between two middle fingers. It actually looked really cute and I got back to work feeling even better than before. Though I still played up and sniffling and coughing so that people would stay the hell away and I could catch up on all the work my sickness-induced misery had made me go too slow on.

So I wasn’t sure if it was karma or irony that bit my ass so hard that I almost couldn’t get out of bed on Friday morning. Aching, coughing, and no matter how much I covered myself (no matter that I was _sweating_ ) I could _not_ get warm.

Fuck, I did not want to be too sick to see Steve that night. I hated the idea so much that I threw myself into work to avoid thinking of having to call the night off. If I could work around other people, I could hang out and do nothing with one other person, damn it.

Just before midday a gaggle of supervisors, including mine, joined up in the hallway, and when they announced we were officially done with the main audit prep there was some half-hearted cheering and clapping.

Though I had been done with my part for an hour and was currently struggling my way through my usual job, I collapsed forward, rested my throbbing head on the uncomfortably cool wood surface, and tried not to cry.

“Go home,” my boss said sympathetically from behind me.

“I’m just taking a short break,” I said without moving.

“I’ll call you a cab,” he said, already walking away.

I didn’t even argue with him. I kept just enough brain power to get home without acting like a moron, but as soon as I passed the threshold of my apartment I dropped my shit to the floor, stumbled to my bedroom, and crawled into bed.

I woke up feeling like a melting icicle, with cotton balls in my mouth, sandpaper in my throat, and weights on every conceivable inch of my body.

“Fucking _damn it_ ,” I rasped and tried to get up. I made it to my hands and knees…then flopped back down, curled up on my side and wrapped the blanket around me.

“Come here,” someone said, soft and soothing and–

“Steve?” I asked as he sat next to me and helped me sit up with all the delicate touch one might have when picking up a baby bird.

“Drink this,” he said and put a cup to my lips. Water had no business tasting that good but it was refreshing and wet my throat and at the end of it I wanted a gallon more as everything inside me started to dry right back up.

Some of my brain came back on and I could have kicked myself. “Shit, Steve, I’m so sorry I didn’t call, I–” Wait a minute. Steve was here. In my apartment. “Um…Steve?”

“Yes?” he said, very patiently. Almost frighteningly so.

I held my face and carefully breathed my way through a potential coughing fit. “I was kind of out of it today but I…I don’t remember letting you in.”

“You didn’t,” Steve said. “You were asleep when I got here.”

“Oh.” Hm. “Steve?”

“Yes?”

“How did you get in?”

“You left your door unlocked.”

It took me a few seconds to process that. When I did, I almost smothered myself with my bare hands. “Shit. Fuck. _Shit_.”

“Yeah,” Steve said and rubbed his hand up and down my back. “So I’ll never sleep again.”

“That’s my line,” I said and let my arms drop. Steve propped my chin up though and looked entirely too serious as he put a thermometer in my mouth. “S’ry,” I mumbled around the stick and tried to bunch the blanket up around me. I was _cold_.

“It’s all right. You scared me but…” He shook his head and his smile was the dictionary definition of ‘forced.’ “Let’s see how high your fever is.”

“Okay,” I said and kept quiet until the thing started beeping and Steve pulled it out. I tucked my chin into the comforter. “I’m sorry I didn’t call and let you know. I was just…really hoping to be over it by tonight.”

“With a hundred-and-one fever I doubt you’ll be over it soon,” Steve said and brushed my hair back. I couldn’t imagine why; even though I was freezing to death I knew I was sweaty and gross.

“It’s nothing,” I lied. I wanted to cry, I felt so bad, but I already must have looked so terrible. “I’ll be up and at ‘em in no time. I’m sorry you had to come all the way over here. And see me looking like a slime creature. And for scaring you. Thanks for locking my door.”

“I’m glad to have done it,” Steve said. He didn’t even look like he was considering leaving. Weird. He even helped pull the blanket up closer around my neck. “Do you have anything to take?”

I looked to my side table where my little plastic bottles sat, sad and empty. “I might have some more Nyquil in the bathroom cabinet.”

“I’ll go get it,” he said and got up. I missed his warmth immediately.

“Can you– never mind,” I said quickly. “Sorry.”

“It’s all right,” Steve said and stood in front of me. “I’m already up.”

Well, since it was in the same place… “Can you bring back some aspirin? It’s on the counter.”

“Of course,” he said and slipped away to my bathroom.

I flopped back down and tried to curl up. It was hard to move but I was exhausted and freezing and was this too much to put on a new relationship? I wanted to worry, felt like I should have been doing more of that, but I just didn’t have the energy for it. I could (and would) worry later.

“Hey,” Steve’s gentle voice broke through the haze of sleep as he sat next to me and helped me sit up. He gave me a couple of pills, a small medicine cup just over halfway mark, and more water. I took it all and then immediately started coughing up a lung.

Steve wrapped his arms around me and my blanket force field; even through it he was so _warm_ , and since I was already being greedy I leaned into him. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for being sick,” he said, rubbing my arm.

“I’m gross,” I said, my eyes shutting against my will. I wanted to tell him to leave, to go have a nice night, but I was so comfortable I couldn’t bring myself to.

“Oh no,” Steve said mildly. “You’re not a supermodel when you’re running a fever?”

I started to laugh and almost choked. “I’m going to cough on you,” I said and snuggled closer. Steve lay down and took me with him. I was clinging to him so good though that he didn’t have much of a choice– even minor contact with the cold air was worth pressing my body closer to his to soak up all that delicious warmth, no matter how gross I was.

“Lucky for me I can’t get sick anymore,” he said and tucked the blanket tighter around me.

“Good,” I said. Between the weight of my blanket and Steve’s slight lean on me, I felt very comfortably smushed. “You’ve had enough of it.”

“Yeah, I really have,” he said fondly. “You can go back to sleep; you need to rest to get better.”

“Mmkay.” I let go and tried to relax. Hopefully Steve wouldn’t be around to see me cry when I inevitably woke up in desperate need of some Nyquil, but that was a problem for future me. “Gonna get better. Gonna– gonna get better and kick your ass in Mario Kart.”

Steve was quiet for a few moments. I was nearly asleep when he brushed my hair back. “I don’t get it,” he murmured. “How can you say you’re not beautiful when you have the most beautiful imagination in the world?”

I was too close to the edge of consciousness to come up with a retort, but that did make me smile.

Asshole.

I woke up still feeling like death, but slightly less freezing. Slightly. Steve was gone but the heat was going and I had an extra blanket on top of me, so that was nice. My room was dark and I could see light glowing from the living room, and I was 99.9% sure Steve was the source of the clanking coming from the kitchen. That moved to 100% when I heard him swear.

I moved to sit up and noticed there was something under my arm, where Steve had been– a stuffed animal I had never seen before. I moved it into the little light I had to see a very cute cow. The fur was so soft but with that brand new never-been-washed feeling. I hugged it and reveled in the plushness.

“I’m glad you like it,” Steve said, backlit in the doorway and leaning with both hands gripping either side of the frame. He smiled. “Is it an acceptable substitute?”

“Yes. Temporarily,” I said and squeezed it. “It’s nice, but not as soft and cuddly as my first choice.”

Steve ducked his head in a way that let me know he was blushing even though I couldn’t actually see the pink flush of his pale skin. No fair; why did he have to be so cute when I felt like a bedraggled bed monster? “Do you think you can eat some soup?” he asked.

My stomach grumbled in apprehension. “Depends on the soup.”

“A very basic can of chicken noodle.”

“Ooo, mostly broth then.” I pushed off my blanket and immediately regretted it. “Good thinking.” I put on my slippers and wrapped the comforter back around me.

Steve came over and helped me up. “You look like you’re wearing one of those inflatable costumes.”

“Thank you for the self-confidence boost in these very trying times,” I said, but it _was_ a very puffy blanket, and hard to sit down with in a dining chair. I made it work though.

“Sorry,” he said sincerely as he helped me scoot closer to the table.

“I was joking,” I said.

“Sorry,” he said and set the bowl of steaming hot soup right in front of me.

I picked up my spoon, eager to see if burning my insides would make me feel any warmer, but stopped right before I could dig in. I squinted at him. “Are you making fun of me?”

He winked. I rolled my eyes and– well, in a just world, I would have been able to sip my soup with dignity. Unfortunately I was currently a trash fire; a cold, weak trash fire, and my hand shook so bad I lost most of what was on the spoon. I had to stop, steady myself, and carefully dip it back in for more before I could even think about actually eating.

Steve cleared his throat. Timidly. “Would you like me to…help?”

I stared at him to see if he was making fun, but he seemed earnest enough. It actually was very perfectly Steve to tease me about something and then be stupidly sweet one second later. The thought made me laugh. And cough.

“Sorry,” he said. “I–”

“No,” I wheezed and waved him quiet until I could speak again. “I was just thinking that is so you– dick one minute, considerate the next.”

He smiled brightly. And while it certainly was a considerate offer, I had lines. “But thanks but _no_ ,” I said and, with a steadier hand, managed to start eating.

Steve had his own bowl of soup, bigger and obviously heartier. It was a relief to see him eating something too, even if I knew it was more like a snack to keep him sated for the time being. He watched me too though so I kept at my food and made it halfway through the bowl before the aches and cold caught up to me and I leaned back, utterly exhausted by the simple task of ‘having dinner.’ Being sick fucking sucked. “Thank you.”

“I can heat a can of soup like the best of them,” Steve said.

“I meant for everything, but yeah, I’m real proud of you for being able to figure out how to use a stove,” I said. I hesitated. Despite him sticking around of his own volition, I still felt weird for asking for more. But I also felt more comfortable with the idea that I _could_. Being able to rely on another person again was…exciting. “Can I ask for a favor?”

Steve straightened up like he was being called to action. “Of course.”

“Can you run me a lukewarm bath?” I asked. “I don’t trust my internal thermostat right now but I’ve gotta break this fucking fever.”

“Of course,” he said and stood, and then grabbed both our bowls.

“I can get those,” I said but couldn’t find it in myself to even pretend like I wanted to get up.

“Don’t,” he said and stopped next to me. He pulled up a drooping blanket edge. “Try to finish that glass of water. I’ll grab you a glass of juice after your bath.”

“I don’t have any juice,” I said, pathetic to my own ears, but fuck, that sounded really good.

“You didn’t have any soup or stuffed animals before either.” Steve gave me a quick hug. “I’ll be right back.”

On one hand, Steve was a genuinely good guy and this was completely in character for him. On the other hand, I wondered if I was stuck in some fantastic fever dream and I was going to wake up to find Steve had just left a kind note, a bottle of pills, and a glass of water.

I jolted when Steve rested his hand on my shoulder. I hadn’t realized I had been drifting off again. Being sick really fucking sucked. “Are you sure a bath is a good idea?” he asked and bent next to me.

“I’ll be okay,” I said and opened my eyes, willing all of my energy to do this one thing. “It won’t be pleasant, so I won’t be too long. The TV is all yours if you want– or– or if you have somewhere to be, you can…you can go. If you want.”

He stared at me, unreadable. “Do you want me to go?”

“No,” I admitted. “Sorry; that’s selfish.”

“It’s okay,” he said and wrapped an arm around me, pulling me in for half-hug. “I know you’d do the same for me.”

“Nope,” I said and turned my nose up and away from him. “I have a reputation you know.”

“Not with me,” he said, curling his arm to hold me closer.

Damn if that didn’t make me melt immediately. “Okay, you’re right,” I said and rested my head on his shoulder. “I’d do the same. And I wouldn’t even hold it over your head the next time you blue-shelled me.”

“That’s so generous.” Steve kissed my head. “Take your bath before it gets too cold.”

I did. And it sucked. But I when I came out I put on fresh new pajamas and my warmest robe and it felt really good to be in nice clean clothes. After I downed as much juice as my stomach could handle I went along easily with Steve’s prodding, and climbed back into bed.

“What time is it?” I asked, already sinking into a measure of comfort. At last.

“Almost midnight,” Steve said, sitting next to me. He handed me the cow, which was nice, but…

“It’s late,” I said and looked at him. “Do you want to stay tonight?” Wait, that was terrible, I was _gross_. “You can have the bed, if you want; I can take the cou–”

I didn’t even get up on my elbows before Steve lay down, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled me into him. I snuggled even closer and he flicked off the bedside light.

“You know if you wanted me to stay you could just say so?” he chuckled in the warm dark.

“It seemed rude to assume you’d want to,” I said and shut my eyes. “You’ve been so good to me. I don’t want to…take advantage.”

“I don’t mind,” he said softly, running his hand up and down my back. “I hated being sick. I like being able to help.”

“Mmm.” I started drifting off. “Did you have someone to take care of you?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, a little sadly. “My ma was busy a lot but she always did what she could. Bucky took over the job. He was even stricter than she was.”

“Good,” I said. “You would need someone to browbeat you into bed.”

He laughed. “Yeah, I really did,” he said fondly. “But you couldn’t blame me. God; the home remedies we had…”

“Don’t give me nightmares,” I said without meaning it.

“All right,” he whispered, a smile in his voice. “Go to sleep, sweetheart. You’ll feel better in the morning.”

I did. On both counts. Well, to varying degrees. I didn’t feel 100% better but the fever was gone. And Steve had made coffee and gotten us both breakfast. It was shaping up to be an excellent morning.

Steve then annihilated _all_ of his good will by using his phone to play back a recording of me, more than half-asleep, responding to his prompts about what my new stuffed animal would be named.

“So which one are you leaning towards?” he asked as I tried to drown myself in my coffee. “‘Moo?’ Or ‘cow?’ Or ‘mmmmmilk tea?’”

Captain America was then beaten to death by Moo Cow Milk Tea.

It was a tragedy from which the nation would swiftly recover.

“If I had known that thing was actually a weapon I probably wouldn’t have bought it for you.”

_Fwap!_

“Hey!”

The jerk then got out of his chair and tried to steal my stuffed cow away from me. I held out valiantly for approximately 3.43 seconds before he got hold of it and tossed it across the room. Before I could go get it though he plucked me from my chair and carried me over to the couch, where he sat right down with me in his lap.

“You’re still a jerk,” I said and snuggled against his chest as he pulled a blanket over us.

“I’m still better than a toy cow,” he said and kissed my head. I shut my eyes.

_Wait a minute._

I smiled something that felt wicked. “ _Jealous_ jerk.”

“I am _not_ jealous.”

“Mm hm.”

The sound of Steve’s poorly-concealed outrage over being accused of being jealous of a stuffed animal lulled me into the most relaxing nap I’d ever had.


	5. Start Stop Slow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes you just need to take it slow, whether you consciously want to or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Talk of sexual relations, steamy smoochin’
> 
> A/N: This chapter has been giving me some trouble and at this point I need to just put it up. I do like it, and I like trying my hand at intimate situations even though that isn’t my strong suit. Practice makes perfect and all. (Eventually.) Please enjoy <3

It was a bright afternoon but the blinds held fast against the sun, leaving my apartment with a hazy glow. Steve and I lay on the couch, him under me, the both of us on our backs to presumably watch TV. Something was on but I honestly wasn’t paying much attention.

Steve’s hands were wandering.

Oh, nothing ungentlemanly– idle motions from his hand resting at the edge of my collarbone when his arm was across my chest; fingers trailing down my side as he moved that arm to rest across my stomach instead. But now that hand was on my other side, resting on my hip, fingers curled oh so lightly against an exposed sliver of my skin. It might have been nothing he was even conscious of, but I was all too aware of his dormant touch.

Then his hand opened up, and his fingers rested loosely in that space for just a moment before they began to move, one curling after the other, grazing my skin. I didn’t mind it– in fact, my interest was piqued by the casual move. But was it truly casual, or was he testing the waters?

He started running his thumb in light circles, and when I let out a little “mm” those circles had more pressure to them. Testing then; and I was more than okay with him continuing. The question was: how did I encourage him without seeming too desperate or, on the other end, scaring him off with apathy?

I left his absent-minded movement alone and slowly moved my left hand up the side of the couch until it arrived at his, so I could curl my fingers around the loosely hanging appendage. His right hand rested easier on my side, weighted even more with reassurance. I squeezed, my fingers pressing into the center of his palm–

–which caused an interesting ripple. He inhaled sharply, shifted, and his right hand squeezed my hip surprisingly hard with what almost felt like a sudden spasm. It didn’t hurt, but it did make me jump a little, and I leaned my head way back to check on him.

“Sorry,” he said and started rubbing the spot he had squeezed, which caused a different interesting ripple, in that I had to try to hide a shudder as it rolled through _my_ body. “Did I hurt you?”

“No,” I said. I smiled, even though his right hand was moving in deep rhythmic patterns very close to a very sensitive area and I–

Still positioned just right, I scraped my fingernails across his palm and watched a lump travel down his throat. His right hand stopped moving and I couldn’t help the smirk that overcame my face. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for sensitive hands.”

A light pink dust spread across his face even as his jaw clenched and his eyes glimmered with mischief. He covered my left hand with his and closed it in his grip.

His face was so close and it was just curiosity ( _only_ curiosity, I would swear on my grave,) that made me turn my head to the side and arch so I could see him better. Closer.

Close enough, apparently, for him to move his head just a little and meet my lips with his own. A tentative brush was all it really was, but I felt a spark at the brief contact. There was another testing touch, this time accompanied with a brief caress of a curious tongue, and then…we didn’t pull apart.

He pulled me up closer, easing the pressure in my neck and making it possible for me to twist my upper body and let gravity help bring my face even closer to his. He pulled on my other hip and helped the rest of my body follow through. Though I was far from light weight, his hands settled on my shoulder blades and held me down. Not to keep me from getting away, but as a gentle, wordless plea to stay as close as I possibly could.

His kissing was methodical but thoughtful– lips here, sweep of the tongue there, but when I let out a little moan at a brief graze of teeth he tried to replicate it. He didn’t quite get it again but I appreciated the effort. For my part, I moved my hand up the side of his neck with a very gentle stroke. His “Mmm” was so quiet but undeniably approving and something warm rushed through my entire body. I pulled my fingers in a soft swipe down the side of his face _right_ next to his ear and his grip tightened. I filed that away for later.

As my hands moved, Steve loosened his and also let them roam. It was nice. It was nice that his hands slid down my back over my shirt, down; all the way down to grip my thighs. It was nice that when my hands moved over his chest and up to his collarbone his response was to lean his head back and allow me even more access. It was nice that his lips trailed down my jaw to my neck so that he could use his teeth and tongue to make something deep inside of me light like fire. It was nice. It was good. It was…

Too much.

It was just too much. There was no reason for me to get freaked out, and yet I suddenly wanted so badly to pull away. I was safe with Steve, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, nothing he did felt bad, everything felt really _good_ , and yet I was frozen with the conflicting singular desire to go-stay. I couldn’t move, couldn’t return the gestures, couldn’t get back into doing what I, just a moment ago, had wanted so badly to keep doing forever.

Steve stopped and I felt propelled into a panic. That allowed me to move, at least, and I tried to bring him back, but my weak tugging at his shirt collar didn’t smooth out the lines in his face, or ease the downturn of his lips that were, formerly, too busy to be so stressed. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing, I just…I…I, uh…” But I couldn’t even come up with an excuse. “I just needed to…stop.” Shit. Shit. _Shit_.

“Okay,” Steve said. “Did I move too fast?”

“No.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“ _God_ no.” I wanted to pick back up where I had let us off but I couldn’t _do_ it. I groaned and let my head fall on his chest. “It felt so good; I don’t know why I…”

“It’s okay,” Steve said, but was it? It didn’t feel okay, no matter how kind he sounded or how nice it felt when he rubbed my back.

“I’m sorry,” I said, still buried in his shirt. “It was really nice.”

“It was.”

“I’m sorry I fucked it up.”

“You didn’t fuck anything up,” he said, too quickly.

“I did; I just got…overwhelmed, I guess?” I lifted my head for a moment, barely caught a glimpse of his expression, and then immediately shoved my face back in his chest. “That sounds stupid; forget I said anything.”

He shook with quiet laughter and I grumbled, “Shut up or I’ll pinch your tit.”

“Don’t move _too_ fast for me sweetheart,” he said and, damn it, that made me laugh. He cleared his throat and said, “Would it make you feel any better to know you weren't the only one feeling overwhelmed?”

“Really?” I looked at him again. But he wasn’t looking at me. “Hey Steve?” He might as well have been counting tiny threads in the couch cushion, he stared at it so hard. “Steve. I’m not gonna make fun of you.”

“You're not?” he said and looked at me.

I…made a mental note to pull back on some of the teasing. “Yeah. You can tell me if you want to stop, you know?”

“You know you can too,” he said. “I’d prefer it, actually.”

“Yeah.” I sighed. “I didn’t really _want_ to. I don’t have a reason for it.”

“You don’t have to; I’m not going to make you prove anything,” Steve said and continued to run his hand up and down my back. “When I was asking you about it, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” I said. I slid my hand over the one he left resting on his chest and laced my fingers with his. “Are _you_ okay? Did I do anything to freak you out?”

“No,” he said. “I…”

I waited, but it didn’t come, and there he went, counting threads again. Or something. Just how good was his eyesight anyways? Did he see something on the couch?

I turned my head away and rested it on his chest so I could focus. “You can tell me if you want,” I said. “This is still a ‘no making fun’ zone.”

“Well uh, I don’t know if this is the right time– I know we’re nowhere _near_ – but I thought I should mention I…” He cleared his throat. “I’ve never been with. Anyone. Fully. Except Bucky. I’ve never been with, uh…a woman.”

I lifted my head and looked at him and his face was _so_ red. “Oh,” I said. Then I thought about it. “Wait, no women? Ever?”

“Peggy and I were too busy,” he said. His eyes flitted away, wistful, and then he cleared his throat again and looked at me with the fakest damn smile.

Peggy Carter was a living icon, an inspirational hero, and also a topic I didn’t know how the hell to breach. I barely knew how to talk to Steve about Bucky, and he seemed to have an easier time there. So I tried to skirt around. “Seriously though, _no_ women approached you other than Peggy?”

He seemed to hedge himself. “There was one woman who…well, obviously wanted, but– she terrified me.”

I snorted.

“Really!” he said. “She wanted to eat me alive.”

An understandable reaction. “Well, you are pretty tasty,” I said and he got that embarrassed smile. Much better. “Just one though? Not even someone from when Bucky was trying to set you up? Before?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “I wasn’t exactly a catch. I’m pretty sure even _you’ve_ seen people talk about that.”

“I thought they were exaggerating,” I said. “Like ‘oh can you see the _change_ ; Captain America went from _this_ little guy who couldn’t get _one fucking date_ to _this_ hunk o’ man _all_ the women want.’ It’s such bullshit; I’ve seen a picture. You were cute.”

“You think so, huh?” he asked, his smile easing into something more confident. “You can say that now, though; there’s no way to make you prove it.”

“Jerk,” I said and pulled myself up his body so I could kiss him. It was just a little thing, but it felt nice again– comfortable– so I gave him another one.

“I’m glad the queen approves,” he said. And how was I supposed to _not_ kiss him for that? It was almost embarrassing how good that sounded coming out of his mouth, and it was even better to feel good about kissing him again.

Unfortunately though that initial hunger was gone, but I still asked, “Do you want to try again?”

Steve seemed to think about it. “No,” he said. His brow furrowed. “Is that all right?”

“Of course,” I said and settled back into place, and our lazy day went right back on like nothing had ever happened.

Except later, when some play-wrestling brought us back into orbit and our faces were close together and I thought I might like to kiss him deeply once more. I was a little afraid of having to stop again, but he was staring at my lips, long dark lashes practically covering his half-closed eyes and if we had to stop…maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Because we could just pick it up again, whenever we both felt comfortable with it.

“May I kiss you?” Steve asked, his breathy voice pushing the words to hit my lips.

My smile told on me, but he still waited for me to say, “Yes.”


	6. Sharing is Caring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even with Steve incognito, going out to eat can sometimes be an adventure. Still, at least food isn’t the only thing this couple shares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Mild bullying based on weight, mention of an off-screen past character having an eating disorder relapse, reiteration that POV character is overweight/fat
> 
> A/N: I wasn’t sure about this chapter at first (the initial start was a little weak and never fully left my mind) but I like how it turned out, even if our POV does monologue a little bit. I have the next chapter in mind and it’s going to be more Steve-focused though, so it balances. By the way I'm sorry; I am super behind on responding to comments and I'll try getting to them as I gain the mental wherewithal to do so. Also, just a note for the story going forward: all of the cute vignettes I started this story for were partly written before current events. I don’t know how all of this is going to shake out in life going forward, but this story might be a little divorced from how things actually are, depending on my mood. ‘Wait and see’ is kind of the name of the game in all things, I guess, but I hope you all are safe and as content as is possible right now <3

“If you steal my fries again I swear I will stab you with my for– _goddammit Steve_!”

The little shit grinned at me, giving me a full view of _my_ food in his toothy maw. “Fucking gross,” I said and crumpled up a napkin to throw at him.

“Wasteful,” he said in an authoritative tone.

“So use it, Captain Planet,” I said. “And– no!”

I actually smacked his hand away from my fries and his surprise was a point of pride. He scowled but pushed his fry basket towards me. “Trade?”

I snorted and guarded my food. “If I wanted your boring-ass _normal_ fries I would have ordered them. _Next time_ listen to me when I tell you what’s good.”

“Next time,” he agreed. I sighed and pushed my basket over to him. He beamed and all my anger went poof, buh-bye, like a shadow at high noon. Not that I ever intended to tell him that. In fact, I poked at his leg with my foot under the table purely to be annoying, but he just ignored me and continued to eat the dish formerly known as My Food. I let him get away with murder, honestly.

I blamed his dumb-cute glasses. And his dumb-cute hat. And his dumb-cute ja– in all seriousness, Natasha had unlocked the ability to make Steve look like a _very_ attractive hipster, even though he was, ultimately, far too much of a dork to pull off the persona. Especially with how unironically happy he looked.

“Do I have something on my face?” he asked and looked up at me from his ill-gotten goods.

“Nah,” I said and smiled. “I’m just wondering how someone with a supposedly photographic memory leaves their wallet at home.”

He ducked his head. Away from the food, surprisingly. “I can’t believe you’re still fixated on that,” he grumbled to the table.

“Believe it,” I said and stole my food back.

“Hey!”

“‘Hey’ what? It’s _my_ fucking food,” I said and smacked at his roving hand.

“We were sharing,” Steve said, attempted to strike with one hand, and with his other managed to snag a couple of fries with a very little amount of the sauce and toppings.

“That’s funny, because _you_ weren't,” I said and tried to shield my prize. He was crafty and agile though, and snuck another one despite my best efforts. “You–!” I dropped my hands and sighed. “Fine!”

Steve stole the cardboard boat and smiled sweetly at me.

I stood up and wagged my wallet at him. “You can have the leftovers; _I’m_ getting _new_ fries and you don’t get any.”

His smirk said otherwise. I rolled my eyes because, yeah, he was probably right, and when I went up to order I got a bigger size, knowing that we would eventually share. Eventually. But when I got back I played it up– I scooted my chair further away from him and hunched over my new food. “These are aaaalllll mine.”

“Mm hm,” Steve said, like he wasn’t even listening to me. Oddly, it wasn’t because he was eating. He kept stealing glances and frowning at the table next to us, but the group was so tightly clustered, whispering amongst each other, that I didn’t know why he was so focused on them. They didn’t even steal glances back at him, so it wasn’t like they knew who he was. People _always_ kept looking at him when they talked about him.

I waited until he gave me more than a second of his attention to ask, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he said and faced me fully again.

“Good; I wanna make you watch me eat this,” I said and picked up my fork.

“Not like she can’t spare the calories.”

The sarcastic mutter was as unfamiliar as the tittering that followed it but it stopped me in my tracks nonetheless. Instinctively I looked at Steve, but he was looking at that other table again, jaw clenching and eyes narrowed.

I followed his line of sight and was brought up short for several seconds by the fact that the group of four women and two guys were all staring at us. Snickering and smirking and I…suddenly wasn’t very hungry. At all.

“Is there something you need help with?” Steve asked them, and wow, he was _terse_. This was past his ‘we’re going to have a polite but stern conversation’ and I didn’t think I had ever heard him get to that point before.

“No. But we can help you,” one of the women said. She was mildly pretty, but completely oblivious to Steve’s tensing body as she casually propped her chin in her hand. “You can share my food, if you want. Let her have her lunch if she wants it that bad. She’s _obviously_ wasting away.”

It actually became kind of funny, at that point, in how ridiculous it was. On my own it would have been hard to deal with, but Steve was getting so pissed off on my behalf that I went into crisis management mode– his ‘disguise’ had worked so well that we had been a full-on couple, in my eyes, and if he slipped into his ‘Captain America’ voice and someone at the table figured that one plus one equaled two, we would be sunk deeper than I was comfortable with.

“Have you had these fries?” I asked her like she wasn’t the worst at sarcastic comments. “All the loaded ones are good, but these are the _best_.”

She looked at me like I was a piece of road kill in her grill. Steve scooted closer to me. If he was a cat, I would have felt the fur sticking straight out. As it was, I patted his hand. “Nice try, but you’re still not getting any.”

“Mm hm,” Steve said, still staring at her even as he lifted my hand and kissed it.

She shook her head. “You don’t have to put up with that, you know.”

I rolled my eyes. “Right. You’re so concerned about his well-being that my _weight_ is the first thing you go after.” _Please_ , I didn’t add, only because the pure amount of requisite sarcasm was physically impossible at the moment. Hours of messing around with Steve made it hard to get into that bad of a mood that quickly. Shame.

“Aw,” her friend said. “I think you hurt her _feelings_.”

“No,” I said. “But you’re trying to. And that says more about you than anything ever will.”

She opened her mouth and I braced myself for whatever nonsense was going to come next but Steve, in an act of brazen stupidity, suddenly grabbed his fork and speared a _bunch_ of my _brand-new fries_. “Son of a bitch!” I blurted out.

“How dare you,” Steve had the fucking _nerve_ to say with his chewing face hole still full with his continuing crime. He swallowed. “My mother was a saint.”

“She’d have to be to put up wi–” I gasped as his other hand went _back_ to my food. I grabbed it but super strength and all, but he made a good show of pretending, to the point where we doubled over as he wrestled to get at my food.

Or so I thought. We ended up hunched into each other, me grasping his stupidly big hands with mine, when he leaned over to fully ensconce me and whispered, “Ignore them.”

“Huh?” I actually had to think about why he said that and, oh, right, assholes. “That’s better advice for you.”

“I’m trying.”

Poor thing, obviously fighting with overwhelming heroic urges. I kissed his forehead to help keep a blood vessel from popping. “Okay…how about we finish the fries together and then go get ice cream?”

He actually gave me a small smile, reluctant but fond. “That sounds good to me.”

I slid the fries over so we could both ( _both_ , including _me_ ,) eat them. We remained curled into each other and completely ignored the other table. “By the way, a-plus deflection,” I said and scooped up some of the excess sauce with a group of bits. “Going after what I _actually_ care about.”

He chuckled. “It’s okay,” he said as he swiped the fry I was going for and took a triumphant bite. “I know better.”

He had a spot of sauce on his nose that he _didn’t_ seem to know about, judging by his cheeky grin. It was cute.

“Good,” I said and held out a napkin.

“You were really patient.”

“Huh?” I asked, still too enamored with my big scoops in my ice cream cone to pay him much attention. I was holding his hand though, so he was fine.

“With the… _people_ at lunch,” Steve said. “Especially that woman. You were a lot nicer than I thought you’d be.”

“Oh.” I snorted. “I’m not _actually_ like– well, okay; I _am_ mean sometimes, but generally not to strangers.”

“Even if they’re mean to you?”

“Honestly I hate confrontation so I’d rather bow out. That and you never know what…” I had to think for a moment, because I had a good example– I just didn’t know if I wanted Steve to know _that_. It was an uncomfortable memory, but if anyone was safe to confide in…he was it. “So a couple of years ago I had a co-worker who _hated_ me. From day one, just, super fucking toxic. She was newer than me and did different stuff so I didn’t worry about my job, but she was just really nasty, and latched onto my weight and just kept poking at it. My response was…most of the time nothing, but one time I brought in a bunch of doughnuts and ate, like, three of them right in front of her.”

Steve snorted and I smiled. Yeah, that was still funny to me too. If only I had stayed _that_ kind of immature. “Eventually though I got tired, and I started lobbing back the same kinds of insults because while she wasn’t as fat as me, she wasn’t super fit either.” I frowned. I hated to think of it, but. “What I didn’t know was that she was recovering from an eating disorder. My words made her relapse. Hard.”

Steve squeezed my hand. Hard. “You didn’t know.”

It was funny because he didn’t _know_ that, but he seemed convinced. I guessed he just had that much faith in me. “I didn’t,” I agreed and licked at the melting bits of my ice cream. “I justified it to myself a thousand different ways– she could have done the same kind of damage and didn’t care, I was just giving what I got, blah blah whatever. The point is, whatever I intended or whatever happened to me didn’t matter as much, to me, as the fact that my words did real, actual damage. And despite the shit I talk, I don’t want to hurt _anyone_.” I let go of his hand to poke his side and then wrapped my arm around his. “That’s why I don’t like to insult strangers. I don’t know their soft spots; I can’t make it up to them if I hit too hard. People I do know, though? It’s how you know I like you.”

He gave me a little shit smile. “You must like me the best then.”

I rolled my eyes. “I’m glad you noticed. It’d be real awkward if my boyfriend didn’t know I liked him.”

He slowed down, almost coming to a near-stop, and I wondered why until I realized– that was the first time I had ever used ‘boyfriend’. We were dating, but he was so quiet, was this– should I have waited?

When we did come to a stop my heart leapt up into my throat and I had to swallow it back down so it couldn’t swan dive in a ‘fuck this I’m _out_.’

And when Steve turned to face me my mouth started running like the sprinter I suddenly desperately wished I was. “I’m sorry I– was that– I didn’t mean– was that too much? I didn’t mean to–”

He held my face in his hands and suddenly pulled me in for a kiss. He had to angle himself to keep me from hitting his glasses but otherwise he was as close to me as he could possibly be– maybe even more so, as we seemed to slot together even better than before. It was quick but so deep, like I was the sweetest thing he’d ever tasted, and I couldn’t help but agree. I wanted him more than anything; wanted the taste of him to be the only thing I knew.

When we pulled away I had no words, couldn’t even remember what we had been talking about, _had_ we been talking about anything?, until he said, “It’s not too much. It’s perfect.”

I smiled, and moved back in to kiss him, except that he also came back down to kiss me, and neither of us accounted for his glasses that time. Luckily Steve had quick reflexes so I missed the brunt of it, but my cheek still hit the edge of his frames hard enough to make them go askew.

“Sorry,” he said and straightened them back on his face. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” I took his hand again. That time he laced his fingers with mine. “What do you say we go back to my place so you can ditch the disguise, Clark?”

Steve chuckled but squeezed my hand. “Sounds good to me.”

We started walking, destination in mind, and it was nice.

“I’m kind of glad for the disguise though,” Steve said. “What would people say if they knew my girlfriend was such a nerd?”

‘Girlfriend.’ I really did like that, and took a moment to beam in it.

Until I realized what he just said.

“ _Hey_!”


	7. Girls’ Day Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha just wants to see how things are going, and investigates.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s kind of funny to me that so much of this fic is still people eating out since I honestly do not enjoy going out very much, even to eat, but here we are again. Oh well; I had fun with this one! In all honesty I almost scrapped this whole idea because for the longest time (or what felt like) it just…wasn’t working. However something about it eventually clicked for me and I warmed up to it. Natasha is difficult to write but I’m kind of embracing that now and figuring out how she’s gonna be in this fic. In short: I’m still having fun and I hope you are too <3 I thought about working on some other stuff but I already started the next chapter soooo we’ll see what pulls ahead. Until then, I hope you all are happy and safe. And past then too. All the time! …I’ll stop typing now.

I woke up to what appeared to be a fairly standard and typical weekend morning– I had no plans, no responsibilities, other than _maybe_ thinking about cleaning, but I shrugged that off with a groggy mental ‘meh’ and slumped out of my room to go make some coffee.

“Good morning.”

I blinked. I looked around (and around) and tried to ground myself. This was…definitely my apartment.

“Hello Natasha,” I said to the woman looking intently through my cupboards. I had a bunch of questions: ‘ _what are you looking for,_ ’ ‘ _do you think I keep a safe in there,_ ’ ‘ _your hair looks very bouncy today are you going somewhere nice,_ ’ and, my personal favorite, “How did you get in my apartment?”

“Trade secret,” she said and shook a half-empty box of cereal. Okay, by the sound of it there was a lot less than half. “Do you not have any real food?”

“I don’t really cook?” I felt like I should have been more annoyed than I was, but somehow Natasha breaking into my home and ransacking my snacks barely irked me. That in itself rankled me. “I’m going to assume you’re not here because there’s something wrong with Steve.”

“Why would you assume that?”

She said it so levelly that I couldn’t tell if she was being casual or being serious in a ‘don’t freak out’ way and I woke up almost completely in an instant. “ _Is_ something wrong?” I asked and looked around for my phone.

“No,” she said, digging way in the back. “I just don’t think you should assume things like that. I once bluffed my way out of a high-rise full of hostiles with two bullets in me.”

 _I_ wanted to put two bullets in her. Well, not really. Actually, kind of. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Not really,” she said and shut the cupboard door so she could lean her back against it. Her make-up was more muted than usual but she was still one of the most beautiful women I’d ever seen. So unfair. “I wanted to see if you’d come out with me. A girls’ day– or at least, morning.”

Her lips twitched when she said that. I wasn’t sure if saying ‘no’ would be the safer option, honestly. But she was interesting in a weird way– I liked her but couldn’t pin my finger on why. She was pleasant enough, seemed cool, but we had nothing in common outside of Steve, really. She lived a very exciting life, I lived a very boring life, and I doubted the twain would ever meet.

However…she was one of Steve’s best friends. While _we_ would likely not become BFFs, she was still worth getting to know. Even if trying to get to know her would probably be like rolling up to Fort Knox and asking politely if I might please borrow some gold.

Nevertheless, given her immediate proximity, the real question ended up being: did I feel up to hanging out with a near-stranger, alone, for an undetermined amount of time?

Since she was staring at me and I was already frazzled, I shrugged. “Okay.”

“You have your schedule in your head?”

I almost laughed. Almost. “I just had to decide if I was up to socializing today. I’m good.”

Her expression didn’t really change aside from one very pronounced eyebrow rise. “How very honest of you.”

“Um…yeah.” I didn’t like the _way_ she was suddenly staring at me. “Sorry, I’m not great with people.” She continued to stare at me. “Trust me, it– it’s better if we both know ahead of time that…I’m…” She continued to stare and– _wait_. “Are you fucking with me?”

She relaxed and turned over her dainty-looking wrist to check her watch. “That didn’t take you so long.”

“Oh my god.” It was _too early_ for shit like that. “I hate you.”

“Which means you love me.”

“Let’s not get _too_ hasty there.”

“You _like_ me.”

“Yeah well I’m damaged.”

“Aren't we all,” she said and slipped her purse on her shoulder. “Where are we going to breakfast?”

I rolled my eyes but, fuck, I was hungry. “Do you like pancakes?”

She shrugged.

“Okay,” I said. “I’m going to take that you mean you love pancakes. Can’t go a day without ‘em. Would eat them for every meal if you could. Have killed men for them. Life would be–”

“We’re going in one minute and forty-five seconds, I don’t care if you’re dressed or not,” she said flatly and tapped her watch.

I opened my mouth but decided not to tempt fate when she looked so stern, and I scrambled back to my bedroom to get ready.

“You were right,” Natasha said and finally swallowed her anaconda-sized bite. “I would kill a man for these.”

My mouth was completely full so I didn’t respond, but I couldn’t find it in myself to disagree. I hadn’t brought Steve to this place yet and that was mostly because with the tiny tables I was still figuring out a way to keep enough distance between us so that he wouldn’t be able to steal a bite of my food. I really did like Steve, but sometimes I had to save him from himself.

I idly wondered if that happened on missions, but I didn’t want to drag Natasha into talking about work, so I tried for something else. “Did you never go to sleep last night or are you just an early riser?”

“The second one,” she said. She shrugged one shoulder. “Mostly. What about you? Do you sleep through the weekend?”

“Not all of it,” I said, wary of the slight judgy tone of her voice. “I like to stay up late sometimes. One of the benefits of being an adult means no one tells you when to go to bed.” I barely got the last word out before I yawned, so I had to admit, “And one of the downsides of being an adult means no one tells you to go to bed.”

“Steve is an early riser,” Natasha said.

I snorted before I could stop myself. “Fuck if I don’t know. Has he ever called _you_ at four am to invite you out for a _run_?”

She scrunched her face. “You run with him?”

“No!” I said, again, far less constrained than I wanted to be. She smirked and I tried to settle back down. “Honestly I don’t know if I could run if my life depended on it. Also: four. In the morning.”

“He tried that with me once,” she said. “I got to his apartment within five minutes. He was smart enough not to let me in.”

I laughed at that and her smirk melted into a little real smile. For a second; and then she smoothed out again. I started reconsidering my outlook that I was the most emotionally stunted person I knew. Steve ran a close second– or third, at this point, as Natasha seemed to take the cake.

“I can’t believe he fucks with people who can actually–” I cringed at my own self. “God, scratch that; of _course_ he fucks with people who can actually beat him up.”

“That is about ninety-percent of his personality,” she said.

“Yeah, hold that thought,” I muttered and grabbed my coffee to take a nice, big, burning gulp. I must have been even more tired than I realized. “Still, fucking with you seems, uh…dangerous.”

She was inscrutable. “You think so?” she asked and slowly, deliberately cut into her food.

It felt like the wrong answer might have actual consequences, and not just of the deadly sort, so the conversation stalled. I tapped my fingers along the side of my mug. “So, uh…you and Steve have been friends for a while?”

She tilted her hand from side to side. “We’ve known each other since the Chitauri invasion.”

Probably not the best memory. “That sucks.”

“How so?”

“I, uh– it just sounds like…trial by fire,” I said and hoped I wouldn’t say anything else potentially offensive. A girl could dream.

Natasha gestured like it was nothing. “We worked well enough together,” she said. “It took longer to be…friends.”

She said the word like she wasn’t used to it, and immediately took a long sip of her orange juice while staring at me. Something about that clicked in a very familiar way. Like, looking in a weird, distorted, personality-only mirror way. I tilted my head to one side and stared at her for a few seconds. She slowly put her cup down and didn’t look away from me. Her eyes hardened, but I didn’t feel all that scared.

“How do you do it?” I asked. When she raised her eyebrows I clarified: “How do you act so normal when you’re basically ten raccoons in a skin suit?”

One corner of her lips tilted up and she sat back in her chair. “That’s not _all_ I am,” she said.

“Fair enough,” I said and went to spear another piece of my meal.

“And you?”

“Hm?” I asked and stopped.

She didn’t say anything at first. She studied me, and I wondered if I had time to take another bite before she asked me whatever her question was. She was absolutely the type of person who would ask me just as soon as my mouth was full.

…But I was hungry. I held out for less than a minute before I ate again, and sure enough: “Did Steve tell you about the dates I tried to set him up on?”

I chewed slowly and thought about it. When I swallowed I said, “Was this…after or before he asked me out?”

“Oh, well before,” she said. “Before he came back to New York. I’m a very good matchmaker, and Steve isn’t exactly the least desirable bachelor on the block. However he dodged me at every turn. He just wasn’t interested.”

I wasn’t sure what I was supposed to say to that. “He’s a contrary jerk; probably just wanted to do things on his ow–” My phone buzzed and I glanced at it on instinct only to roll my eyes.

“Speak of the devil?” she asked knowingly.

“Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice,” I muttered and quickly scanned over the message to make sure he wasn’t going to my place for a surprise wake-up call.

Steve: Good morning :)  
Steve: Are you awake yet?  
Steve: You should be awake  
Steve: It’s a beautiful day  
Steve: Wanna go for a run in the park?

I looked up at Natasha. “I swear to god I can barely make fun of him when he does so much of it without even knowing.”

“It’s worth the effort,” she said and while she flagged down the waiter for a refill I quickly texted him back.

Me: 1. I’m already awake  
Me: 2. Go fuck yourself <3  
Steve: 1. Aww  
Steve: 2. You’re no fun ;)

I put my phone face-down on the table and ran my hands over my head. I wished I could take credit for how terrible he was because then I could possibly have some power over making him stop, but no, this was all him, and fucking hell why did he say shit like that when I was in public.

“Gross,” Natasha said, mouth full again.

“Uh huh. You don’t even know what he–” I went to get some more syrup only to come away with a container _far_ too light. “What the– did you use _all_ the syrup?”

“There wasn’t that much,” she said, almost defensively.

“It was _half-full_.”

“Well aren’t you an optimist,” she quipped and gestured at her plate. “I had seven pancakes.”

I had to stop and think about that, because she had had an enormous stack. And her plate was currently clean. “Impressive,” I said and looked her over, wondering where the hell it all went. “Is it a requirement for all Avengers to pack away their body weight in food?”

“Are you thinking about applying?” she asked.

I laughed. I laughed way too hard, actually; it was stupid but for some reason that was just too funny to me and when I tried to stifle myself I ended up being really giggly while Natasha stared at me. “S-sorry,” I said and took a deep breath to level out. “The amount of physical activity alone…oh man; that’s hilarious.”

“You’re weird,” she said, but there was warmth in there.

“Say the stacked raccoons in a human trench coat,” I said and leaned far enough over to steal the syrup from a neighboring table.

“That’s kind of long for a nickname,” she said.

“Is there one you prefer?” I asked and poured a shiny river of liquid sugar over my food.

She thought about it. “Natasha,” she decided.

“That’s a good one,” I agreed and set the container down. “So, Natasha…what do you like to do for fun when you’re not at work?”

She smiled in a way that made my toes curl. “Are you sure you want to know?”

I wasn’t sure if she was going for sexy or creepy. I was…down for either. In a very platonic way, of course. “Yes. Especially if any of those hobbies include ‘tormenting Steve’ and come with any details.”

Her smile diverged into ‘definitely creepy’ territory.

(Still hot.)

“Sooo…what did you and Natasha talk about today?”

I rolled my eyes. So _that_ was why he was being such a stiff and terrible human-pillow tonight? I snagged the remote out of his hand and turned the TV volume down. “Stuff.”

“Stuff,” he repeated cautiously, like he was waiting for the rug pull.

“Stuff,” I confirmed. “She showed up in my apartment this morning and invited me out. So we went to breakfast.”

“Huh,” Steve said and stole the remote back. “Wait– “ _in_?’”

“Yeah. It’s okay now though,” I said and scooted up to rest my head right next to his neck. It was nice to keep my options open for later. “She walked me home, like a true gentlewoman, and said it wasn’t the easiest place in the world to get into.”

“Hm,” Steve said, like he was the opposite of reassured. But he snapped back to focus fairly quickly. “So what kind of ‘stuff’ did you talk about?”

“I’m surprised she told you we met up,” I said and leaned my head back to better look at him. “What exactly did Natasha say about today?”

“Nothing,” he said and frowned. “Just that you two ‘had a lovely morning’ and a ‘great discussion.’”

“Hm.” I smiled and looked at the TV. “Sounds about right.”

“Come on.” He hugged my middle and nuzzled his face against my shoulder. “She had a good time.”

“That’s great.” It was, truly. “She’s a hard one to read.”

“Yeah, but you get used to it.” Steve chuckled and ran his hand down my arm. “Later on she said I better not ‘do anything stupid’ to ruin this ‘or else.’”

I couldn’t help but smile. “She hides it well but she’s kind of a disaster too. She’s good people.”

“Mm hm. And good people talk about…”

I snorted, but I pulled up off him. “I got a pie today; go make yourself useful and slice it for us, hm?”

He rolled his eyes and sighed like he was the most put-upon person in the universe, but he did stand. He even gave an exaggerated bow and said, “As you command.”

“I got a list if you’re actually taking orders,” I said, but as he walked away I kept myself faced forward away from the kitchen. As he fumbled around my smile grew _big_ with anticipation.

Then he asked, “Where is…” and it was all I could do to not giggle like a _fiend_. The silence stretched on, giving me time to fake some composure before he said my name in a low tone, elongated with absolute betrayal. “What did you talk about with Natasha?”

“Mm, not much really,” I said, trying for pure innocence and pinching myself when I started to snicker. “We just talked about our mutual love for apple pie and I got a craving and picked one up. Say, this reminds me of a movie I really love; why don’t we watch–”

Steve appeared like a ghost phasing into view. A ghost with murder in his eyes and an apple pie held threateningly in one hand. “I’m going to smash this on your head now,” he said and moved in.

“Hey, you–” The pie swayed worryingly as he got closer and I scooted back. “Steve, I swear to god if you spill any of that you are cleaning it _all_ up and–” He moved closer still and swiped at me with it. “ _Steve_!”

He talked a big game and played it up, but when the pie plate slid out of his hands and hit right at my collarbone, splattering a small part of the filling and crust, he was all apologies. I scowled at him and banished him to the kitchen to slice the damn thing and get the ice cream to go with it. The pie had only partly broken, thankfully, and I let the sticky mess sit right where it was as I glared at him and ate with slow, meticulous bites.

When he finished his dessert he did not look nearly apologetic enough anymore. He took his plate to the kitchen and I resolved to stick with the silent treatment until I got bored.

I yelped when he suddenly pulled me away from my crumb-covered plate. “What the hell?” I asked as he sat normal on the couch and put me across him so I was sideways in his lap.

“I made a mess,” he said innocently and put his mouth to my shoulder, pulling the sleeve of my shirt down even further and kissing his way towards the remnants of the apple pie. His lips were light and left goose bumps in their wake. “I need to clean it up.”

I…somehow found it within me to forgive him.


	8. One Good Turn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes home in a bad way, and finds out it isn’t terrible to be taken care of.

Steve’s super-secret missions were a mixed bag. On one hand, he was doing work that he, ultimately, found fulfilling. Since that type of work generally required a specialist’s hand, it wasn’t like they were just throwing him at whatever problem came up. Even Steve admitted he was good at what he did. Steve _was_ good at what he did. I knew that. His teammates were also good at what they did. I knew that too. All of them trusted and would protect each other if things went south. I knew that as well.

On the other hand, I could do nothing but worry incessantly as I went about my normal daily business while Steve put his life on the line, both of us having to act like it was equally just another day at the office. Some missions he could check in periodically, and on others, contact was a no-go.

This particular mission was one of those special ones that came with a strict ‘no contact’ clause. Even though it was safe for me to text _him_ , it wasn’t really that fun to text him with no response. I would never tell him, because he would worry, but when I texted into a mission-mandated void, my head went to bad places, wondering the ‘what if’ if something went wrong and he never got to see it.

But he had always come home so far, and I tried to let that thought lead me through. That night was going pretty well, actually. It had been a dark day but the predicted rain wasn’t supposed to start in earnest until tomorrow, and I had enjoyed the moodiness of it all. Steve was supposed to be home in a day or two so aside from texting things that I thought were funny that I just _had_ to send him, lest I forget, I left him alone and just dicked around like I always did with or without Steve to serve as my sassy pillow.

When someone knocked on my door I ignored them. When they knocked again I went through a string of curses in my head, preparing to face a confused delivery person or hate my neighbors forever for letting a lost stranger wander around the building. I checked the peephole.

And I stared. The familiar mop of blonde hair was strangely disheveled but when he shifted–

“Steve?” I opened the door immediately, believing but not, but it was him, standing right in front of me. I couldn’t keep the smile off my face. “You’re back so earl–! …Steve?”

Any feeling of delight fled at the full sight of him. His shoulders were slumped and his neck looked like it was weighed down by a ton instead of just his head. His clothes were clean, a normal hoodie and nondescript pair of pants, but there was an acrid smell I couldn’t quite identify that drifted from him. Smoke, maybe? Not cigarette smoke; something more…intense.

I leaned down just enough to see his face and it indeed looked like he had _just_ gotten back. There was a smudge of dirt just above his left eyebrow and a touch of blood under his lip, like it had been split. It was perfect now but he healed so fast…

He stared vacantly down at nothing and I wondered if he even knew I was there. He didn’t look twitchy, at least, but he did look…so sad. I didn’t know what to do, but I knew what I wanted to do, and I had to hope I wouldn’t fuck anything up in the meantime.

“Hey,” I said softly, and when he looked at me I opened my arms. “C’mere–”

Suddenly he enveloped me in a tight hug and exhaled loudly. I waited for him to say something, but nothing came. “I missed you too,” I said and rubbed his back. The smell was stronger then and definitely smoke-like; it made me crinkle my nose. “Hey Steve?”

“I’m okay,” he lied, in a way that almost corporeally came alive to smack the concept of ‘truth’ right across her goddamn face.

“Sure,” I said, but I squeezed him closer. “That’s why you’ve got blood on you and smell like you got firebombed.”

“Oh, uh…” He tried to pull back but as he went I snagged the strings of his hoodie and didn’t let him go far. Not that it could hold him, but nothing I did could keep him if he wanted to leave. And he wasn’t trying to.

“Get back here,” I said and he obeyed, coming in to rest his head on my shoulder. I rubbed the back of his neck to let him know I wanted him there, but when he shuddered I moved that hand to rest on the back of his head. He had no physical reaction to that, so I turned my face to kiss his temple. “Yes/no answer time: are you physically hurt?”

He took a shaky breath. “No.”

I couldn’t tell on that one, but figured it was likely true. He wasn’t moving like he was, so I chose to believe him. “Did you come here from the plane?”

“Yes.”

“So you haven’t eaten yet?”

“No.”

“Or taken a shower– that was rhetorical; I know the answer,” I said and rested my head against his. I saw one of my neighbors down the hall peering at us. She was a nice woman, but I tried to make my facial expression into the epitome of ‘mind your fucking business.’ She quickly turned and went the other way.

I made a mental note to find an apology card, and nudged my human Atlas. “Come in. I’ll get you set up.”

He didn’t protest. His eyes drooped but he nodded at me to go ahead. I slipped my hand into his to make sure he wouldn’t suddenly change his mind and run away, and he laced his fingers with mine and squeezed.

I still had no idea what I was doing. Was he having some sort of episode? Was he truly just exhausted and shaken and didn’t want to be alone? Was it both? I didn’t know, and I didn’t know if I was helping or hurting, but sitting him on the toilet lid while I ran a shower for him seemed a lot better than trying to kick him out into the cold, or calling someone if he didn’t explicitly want me to.

“It feels nice,” I said and shook my hand out.

Steve remained slouched over, but he said, just barely enough to be heard above the spray, “Thanks.”

“I’ll get you some towels.” I squeezed his hand and then had to carefully extract it when he kept gripping. “I’ll be right back.”

I wasn’t sure if he heard me; he didn’t move at all, but I wasn’t going far. I left the door open and went to the laundry closet to get a big towel for his body and a small towel for his hair. It was within eyeshot of the bathroom so when I closed the door and turned to take the towels back I got an eyeful of his backside as he stepped, naked, into the shower.

I almost dropped the towels– even just a flash of him had me pulling the terrycloth over my face, and I took a breath before I went back into the bathroom to put the mini stack down and get the hell out. Unfortunately I didn’t have a lot of surface room to put them, but as I looked around I spied his clothes draped on the top of the shut toilet lid and got an idea.

I replaced his clothes with the towels, and then took said clothes to my dryer and chucked them in on low heat with a couple of dryer sheets to freshen them up. They were soft clothes, comfortable, and hopefully they would be even more so when Steve got out of his shower. I shut the bathroom door so it was only open a crack, and then went to the kitchen. I dug through old crap in the food cupboard until I found some cans of soup, pulled out two identical meaty-looking ones, and dumped them in a pot.

“Sorry Steve,” I muttered as I stirred and put the contents to simmer on the stove.

“For what?”

I jumped a little and turned to see him with the little towel hanging precariously on his shoulder and– well, hopefully the big towel was around his waist. I didn’t know; I wasn’t looking. He had a very nice face. He had a very…tired face. “Do you know where I put my clothes?” he asked, looking like he was in between groggy naps. Hopefully he would be, once he had some food in him.

“Hang on,” I said and took the small towel off him. I went to the dryer and took the clothes out– they felt nice and warm, and it seemed appropriately cozy that the rain was just starting up. I hovered around the bathroom until Steve was finished changing. When he came out I led him to the couch, and made him sit down next to me.

“They feel nice,” Steve said and held the top of his shirt to his nose.

“I threw them in the dryer for you,” I said and gently massaged his hair with the towel.

“You have a dryer?” he asked, voice getting fainter with each syllable. He leaned his head back and shut his eyes.

“I’m never moving,” I said, keeping my motions slow and small. “I’d fight 90% of the city for my stackers.”

Steve didn’t say anything, which was fine. His eyes were shut and the stiff lines of his body seemed to be loosening. I wanted to check on the soup, but I didn’t want to leave him when he was finally relaxing. It was soup; it was probably fine.

Then I saw my phone was blinking with a notification. I glanced at it, and then at Steve. He didn’t seem to notice, so I kept one hand moving the towel around his head, and reached over to grab and unlock my phone with the other.

Natasha: Is he with you?

I looked at Steve and looked back at my phone. Fighting seemed so _obnoxious_ – but they weren't getting him back yet if I had anything to say about it. Thankfully, Natasha was smart.

Natasha: We don’t need him back  
Natasha: We just want to know he’s all right

I sighed.

Me: He’s safe.

Several seconds later I was still drying Steve’s hair when the phone buzzed again and jolted him out of whatever spell he’d been under. “What?” he asked and lifted his head.

“Shh; don’t worry about it,” I said and ran my hand through damp strands while I read Natasha’s simple “Thanks.” I chucked my phone over into the armchair.

Steve’s eyes followed it though. “What was that?”

“I was just telling Natasha to fuck off,” I said and brought both hands to task, moving the towel down to wipe at some stray droplets on his neck.

“Don’t do that,” he said with a weak chuckle. “She might come over here.”

“I’d fight her for you,” I said and leaned in to kiss his forehead.

His shaky breath was very much audible despite wind and rain pelting the window. “Even when I’m like this?”

“Of course,” I said. He lifted his head and stared at me. He didn’t look surprised or confused, or anything; he just…stared.

He shook his head and swallowed so hard I could watch it go down. “I’m sorry,” he said and rubbed his face harshly. “I shouldn’t be like this.”

That was a hell of a take. “Why not?”

“Well…” He gave me the saddest attempt at a brave smile I had ever seen. “I have a reputation you know.”

“Not with me.”

His expression wavered and he turned his face downward.

I sighed and draped the towel over his head, in the hopes that maybe if he could better hide from me he would stop straining himself for an act neither of us believed. I cleared my throat. “I’d put money on the fact that you haven’t eaten in too long, so I’m heating up some soup for you. I’m gonna…check on that.”

I stood, but quick as a starving snake, his hand snuck out and grabbed mine. I waited but still he said nothing. I squeezed, and he returned the grip. I didn’t leave until he let go.

Taking care of the food gave him enough time to come around. He wasn’t normal, but he wasn’t faking anymore, and we sat on the couch together, pressed as close as we could be without being literally on top of each other. Watching him eat, and then try to socialize with me, was like watching a battery deplete in real time. He asked what I had been up to, if I’d done anything fun, how was work, and other meaningless nonsense, and all the while he was drooping like a flower while simultaneously drifting closer, until he rested his head on my shoulder. I couldn’t see his face but his breathing betrayed the fact that he was awake, even though his body said otherwise.

However, it seemed like every time he started to breathe slower and deeper he suddenly inhaled sharply, like he was trying the oxygenated version of splashing his face with cold water. I idly wondered the ethics of trying to bash him over the head with something, but I kept running my fingers through his hair instead.

Fortunately, getting him to shut off the metaphorical lights turned out to be easier than I expected. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m so tired.”

“So sleep,” I said.

And he did. With a drop-off of about three seconds, I suddenly had the full weight of him slumped against me. While he was heavier than I expected, I managed to shift us both so that I was up against the arm of the couch and he was more horizontal. I slipped a small pillow between his head and my hip, and I looked around for anything to do. My phone and the remote were both on the coffee table and there was no way in hell I was going to risk waking him up so I could trawl the internet for shitposts, or watch whatever show I had already seen fifty times.

I didn’t mean to, but I dozed too. There was a haze between me and consciousness, with only the rain in the background connecting me to reality, but I felt when he shifted, heard him when he swore under his breath, and was able to bring myself back around when he did all of those things in quick succession as he woke up.

“Hey,” I said as he blinked himself to coherence. “How are you feeling?”

“Um…tired,” he said, and though he squinted there was more life back in his eyes. “What time is it?”

“Ummm…” That was a good question. “It’s…” I blinked at the clock. Apparently I dozed for longer than I realized. “Ugh; two a.m.”

“Ugh,” he echoed and let his head fall back on my shoulder. “I should…”

“Come to bed,” I finished before he could suggest leaving.

He sat up and blinked a few more times. Admittedly he looked a lot more awake then than I felt. “Are you sure?”

I ignored his stupid question and stood. Or tried to. I flopped right back down and tried the blinking trick. It did not work nearly as well for me as it did for him. “One second…”

Steve chuckled but before I could say something appropriately snide I was scooped up in his arms. “Fucking damn it Steve you have got to stop that,” I said and resisted the urge to hit his shoulder.

“But you make the best noises,” he said and nuzzled my neck.

“I’m gonna throw some blankets on the floor; that’s where _you_ get to sleep,” I grumbled as he set me on my feet next to the bed.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, voice light.

“I don’t,” I said and turned down the sheets. Steve got in and I shuffled an approximation of the same thing. Once I was settled I opened one arm. “Come here.”

He looked droopy-eyed again and scooted in without any protest.

Well, he started to. Just as he was lifting his arm to wrap it around me he frowned, wiggled against the bed, squinted, and reached under himself to pull out…

“Seriously?” he asked and held up Moo Cow Milk Tea.

“Shut up,” I said, snagged the stuffed animal, and tried to drag Steve in by his collar. “Go to sleep.”

He pulled me in, and fell asleep with his chin curled over my head. I fell asleep to steady breaths blowing down my back and his arms wrapped around me, holding me close.


	9. Friendship Bracelets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve has a week of boring meetings. Naturally, he’s all for making things a little more interesting…no matter who it annoys.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is straight-up silly fluff, so I hope you enjoy it. There are a couple of things that might raise questions though, so, one: ‘QJ’ stands for ‘Queen Jerk,’ which is what Steve had Reader/POV saved as in his phone, until Natasha got her hands on it (chapter 11 of Lunch Buddy) and gave him eternal crap for saving a woman he was ‘just friends’ with as ‘Queen.’ As a protective measure, Steve has shortened the nickname so only he knows what it means. Two: This chapter has point-of-view changes that are marked with ~1st~ (the way the story normally is) and ~o~ (for omniscient, as our usual point of view is not attending these meetings). Hopefully it isn’t too confusing; it’s not something I’ll do often but the idea for this chapter made me laugh and wouldn’t go away so here we are ;) Enjoy the silliness and I’ll see you next time <3

~o~

In Steve’s defense, they were on a break. Natasha and Clint were having a quiet conversation, one of the agents had his head resting in his arms like he was taking a _nap_ , Tony was on _his_ phone…

Checking the doorway for Fury and not finding him, Steve slipped out his cell and turned it on.

Steve: How’s your day going?  
QJ: I spilled coffee all over my shirt this morning today is the worst  
Steve: Well at least you smell like coffee?  
QJ: True. I am delicious :D  
QJ: I’d ask how you’re doing  
QJ: But your meeting is so boring I can feel it from here

Steve smiled.

Steve: It isn’t that bad  
Steve: Really  
QJ: Wow  
QJ: That is so convincing  
Steve: Shut up

A presence in front of him preceded a pointed throat clear and a suddenly quiet room. Steve sighed to himself.

Steve: Guess we’re not on break anymore  
Steve: I’ll talk to you later  
QJ: Good luck please don’t get assassinated  
QJ: Who will be my pillow if you’re gone?

“Oooo, caught phone-handed,” Tony said and raised his eyebrows suggestively. “Who’re you texting, Cap?”

Steve froze. Tony likely knew, of course, but Agent May’s team was right there, just as attentive as anybody else, and as much as he liked and respected Coulson, and Agent May was just as worthy of admiration and respect…he didn’t know them. Skye looked _very_ interested in his answer and while Steve was ninety-nine percent sure it was because she had been flirting with him earlier…there was always going to be that one percent chance he didn’t want to risk.

“Just a friend,” Steve said and silenced his phone.

Fury rolled his eye. “Tell your _friend_ you’ll chat with them _later_.”

“Yessir,” Steve said and put his phone away as Fury went to the front of the room to stand with Maria, Phil, and Agent May for the briefing.

“Aw, Cap’s in trouble with the teach–” Tony suddenly stopped when Fury glared at him. “How is that _twice_ as effective with only one eye?!”

“ _Right_?!” Skye asked but slunk into her seat when Agent May hissed her name. Tony, though…

Fury rolled his gaze upward to an impassive ceiling. Even though he had accidentally started this, Steve kind of agreed with the sentiment.

~1st~

“Would you like a slice of _friendship_ cake?”

“Okay, seriously.” Steve let his book fall onto his lap and tried to look annoyed. Tried– the creeping smile ruined it. Given it was his dramatic reenactment of Fury’s response that had me still giggling, anything else would have been disingenuous. “What would you call it otherwise? A ‘relationship’ cake?”

I laughed, because yeah. “Sorry,” I said and dropped onto the couch next to him. “Did I get you in a lot of trouble?”

“No,” he said and put his arm around me. “Fury gave me a lecture on security but made it pretty clear he just didn’t like that I wasn’t paying attention.”

I leaned against him. Maybe Fury hadn’t really put him on blast, but the way Clint and Natasha had immediately texted me several variations of “friend” had made me cackle all afternoon. It still made me snicker, actually– and brought something else to mind.

“I don’t like the sound of that.”

I pushed my face into him to hide. My expression would have totally given me away. “The sound of _what_?”

“Maniacal laughter.”

“My laughter is dignified and adorable,” I said and snuggled him. “I was just thinking about that wonderful bracelet you gave me.” And about a craft kit from a white elephant gift exchange that had been collecting dust for years. But some things were better left unsaid.

“Uh huh…”

“I think I should give you something nice too.”

He sighed heavily, but it was all performance. He was a good actor when he got to work off his own script. “I’m not going to like this, am I?”

“No Steve.” I turned a big, so-wide-it-almost-hurt grin up at him. “I think you’re going to _love_ it.”

~o~

“What. Is. That.”

Steve looked at Fury with as much plausible innocence as he could conjure. Fury glared at him, but Steve made a show of looking around. “What?”

“On your wrist,” Fury said and folded his arms.

“Oh, that.” Steve brought up his wrist and examined the cheap braided cords. He smiled up at Fury. “It’s a friendship bracelet.”

The room didn’t explode; it just sort of…cracked. Amusement around Fury was rare; SHIELD agents were normally too disciplined to slip but May’s team was green, and messy, (Steve liked them), so he wasn’t particularly surprised when most of the group had sudden coughing fits while May herself stared at him. Tony nearly hyperventilated but didn’t immediately start snarking, so Fury must have had a ‘talk’ with him he hadn’t yet snapped out of. Steve heard a high-pitched giggle he could have sworn belonged to Clint, while Sharon, behind Fury, scrunched her face in a way that could have been anger– but Steve knew her well enough to know she was probably trying not to laugh. Poor Phil, one of the very few adults present, rubbed his face.

Fury glared hard at Steve and held out his hand. After a few moments Steve pulled off the bracelet and gave it to him. After a few more seconds, Fury turned and went back to his place in the front of the room.

“ _As I was saying_ …”

~1st~

Steve nearly snickered the entire time he told me the story of how my “friendship” bracelet went over, and did so with more flourish than annoying his (not-boss? co-worker? teammate?) deserved. To be fair…it was a much better response than I had hoped for, and I also found it. Maybe. A little. Hilarious.

I finally stopped laughing when I started coughing. “Shit,” I said with a smile that hurt and hit my chest to ease the aching and eke the last few giggles out of my system. I looked at Steve, hoping to get centered, and _his_ smile was even bigger than mine. So unhelpful. “I’m sorry if I fucked up things for you at work.”

“It was worth it,” he said and flitted his hand like he was shooing a gnat. “And it’ll be fine; it was pretty minor and I doubt Fury would hold a grudge for more than a day.”

Interesting. I had fucked up the project a few times, leading to a slight waste in materials, but… “Hey Steve?”

“Uh oh,” he chuckled under his breath and then asked, “What is it?”

I did some mental calculations. “How many people are at these meetings?”

~o~

Fury walked into the conference room. And stopped. “What the _fu_ –”

“Heyo Commander Crankypants!” Tony said and waved, a thin red and yellow braided bracelet slipping down his arm. Natasha ignored everything but on the wrist of the hand that propped up her head was a bracelet much like his, only green. Most of the rest of the room either admired or hid their wrists.

And, on the part of the table Fury normally stood next to, was a grey bracelet.

Fury glared at Steve. Steve put his hands up, his (new) blue bracelet staying put. Fury stalked over, stood in front of Steve…

…and snatched his phone.

“Hey!” Steve said, but he didn’t move to take his phone back.

Skye leaned over to Clint. “Is Captain America _always_ a troublemaker?”

“You have no idea,” Clint said and Maria, standing nearby, rolled her eyes.

Fury waited and the room was so silent the faint ringing came through the receiver. The voice that picked up was even fainter and soon drowned out by Fury saying, “Stop it or _else_.”

He then hung up, set the phone aside, and met Steve’s glare with one of his own.

“Wow,” Tony said, breaking the silence and the staring contest. “You sure know how to sweet-talk a girl, don’tcha Fury?”

Fury did not get to respond before the phone rang again. Steve tried to get it but Fury was closer, and he answered it without a word.

“ _NO!_ ” came out in pure defiance and just as quickly the call was ended on the other side.

~1st~

After being embarrassed (and a little paranoid) for most of the day, I couldn’t think of a better post-dinner activity than ‘snuggling on the couch.’ Luckily neither could Steve, and I settled on top of him quite nicely, ready to finally let myself relax.

“So…what are you planning for tomorrow?”

“Hm?”

“My favorite food for dinner, a nice new sketchbook–” he reached over and picked up the blank book just to put it back down, “–I’m just wondering what you’re planning to send me with tomorrow because I have to assume it’s going to be something pretty big.”

“Oh, umm…” I winced. “It’s not bribery so much as an apology for maybe embarrassing you at work today.” I snuggled closer, putting my face against his neck so I wouldn’t have to look him in the eye. “I, uh, didn’t really think that through.”

“It’s okay. I thought it was funny,” Steve said. “Definitely deserved.”

“Oh good.” I let myself relax a little. “Will you protect me if your boss comes to assassinate me?”

“Absolutely,” he said, strangely (frighteningly) earnest, and kissed my head before settling in to start the movie.

~

Of course I forgot to factor in that working with Steve and being a super spy meant it was easy for the guy to find me without Steve around. Something I was abruptly reminded of the next day when I was suddenly joined on a park bench in the middle of an otherwise very pleasant afternoon.

I ignored him at first, because he wasn’t totally invading my space and I thought he was just some random guy, but when I noticed him staring at me, I…stared back. I continued to stare even after I studied him and figured out that two plus two equaled spy, but I couldn’t think of anything pithy to say. Or anything, really. But he stared at me like he could make the same straight face for a year without twitching and I really didn’t like that. It pushed me to stammer out, “H-…hiiii?”

He narrowed his eyes and I felt like I was ten years old being held back by my teacher after school. “…I ran out of supplies?”

“Good,” he said. And kept glaring at me.

I tried to stare back but, well, he was very intimidating. “I don’t know what Steve’s been saying about me but I didn’t do anything else.”

More glaring. I twiddled my thumbs and scooted away. I knew he wasn’t going to _do_ anything to me, but his exasperation and annoyance were very much palpable. “I…guess I’ll leave you to your new bench?”

His eyes changed, but to an expression that just said ‘ _really_?’ and he leaned forward, bracing himself against his knees. “We have _one_ last meeting tomorrow, fifteen-hundred to fifteen-thirty. No texting, no “gifts.” Think you can manage that?”

“Yup.”

“Good,” he said, and almost as suddenly as he appeared, he was gone.

~

Steve: Do you want to go out this afternoon?  
Me: Don’t you have a meeting at three?  
Steve: It’s only a half hour wrap up  
Steve: Wait  
Steve: Did I tell you when my meetings are?  
Steve: Please don’t let that slip to anyone; Fury’s going to have my head  
Me: Unlikely  
Me: He’s the one that told me

I was waiting for a text but it took almost half a minute before Steve _called_ me.

“Are you okay?” I asked upon answering.

“That’s what I wanted to ask _you_ ,” Steve said.

“Why?” I asked, and then immediately got it. “Oh, no, Steve, it was fine; he just asked me to stop fucking with his meetings.”

“He _asked_?”

I rolled my eyes. “In his own way. But seriously; he didn’t get super close to me and was more annoyed than pissed. I’m fine.”

“Hm.”

Well _that_ was comforting. I sighed. “I know you work with some pretty intense and dangerous people, but I assume they have some redeeming qualities if you still work _with_ them,” I said. “So be honest– should I be more concerned than I am?”

A few seconds passed before _he_ sighed. “No,” he admitted. “It just bothers me that he went behind my back, and that he cornered you. I’m sorry.”

“No harm, no foul,” I said. “So– do you want to come over here after the meeting, or go somewhere?”

“I’ll come over,” Steve said. His voice changed for the better– well, for him, and maybe worse for me, given how mischievous he sounded. “I’m going to have something for you.”

“Ooookay then,” I said. Hopefully it wasn’t…bad. “…This doesn’t have anything to do with the training you did today, does it?”

He laughed.

~

It was a good thing we were sitting on the couch when Steve handed me the bundle of friendship bracelets, because I laughed so hard I startled the both of us. There were only four, (Natasha, Clint, ‘May’s crew,’ and the tantalizing ‘redacted’), but the real question was…

“How pissed was Fury?” I ‘tsk’ed. “And I just made nice with him too, damn it.”

“Skye gave me a heads-up during training and they gave them to me before the meeting started. I made a big show of putting them away so Fury could get on without distractions; you’re clean.” Steve put his arm around me. “But…I think Skye knows.”

“Knows what?” I asked as I admired my wrist-ful of cute bracelets.

“That we’re not just friends,” he said.

For how paranoid he could be sometimes, he seemed oddly okay with that– he only squirmed a little and I wasn’t sure whether it was his usual desire for absolute privacy or just the phrasing he used. I liked the thought that he was finding more people to trust and maybe making more friends. Steve, in his heart of hearts, _liked_ people. Liked seeing them happy, liked protecting them, and just generally liked being around them. To me, that meant the more people for him to interact with, the better.

“Is that…okay?” he asked uncertainly but quickly brought on that wry smile that was so much a mask. “You're looking at me funny.”

I smiled. And pinched his cheek. “You were just so _cute_ when you said that.”

He scowled and pushed my hand away. I could have, would have, sworn there was a hint of a smile though. “What are you, my girlfriend or my grandmother?”

“Don’t sass me, whippersnapper.”

Steve smirked. “Aw, I’m just chinning; I’m not looking to take any wooden nickels and insult a choice bit of calico like you, ya follow?”

“Uuuhhhh…” I stared at him and wondered how to say ‘smug bastard’ in Twenties. “I understood the last two words. And maybe the prepositions.” I had to think. “Did you call me a _cat_?”

He chuckled and pulled me in and we _finally_ got down to the important business of cuddling. So it was much later, when Steve got up to go to the bathroom, that I saw I had a new text from Clint.

It was just a picture, a little blurry, mostly focused on someone’s hand resting on a desk next to a cup of pens. A cup that had a familiar silver bracelet wrapped around it.

I grinned at the sneaky picture of Fury’s desk and put the phone away just in time for Steve to come back and settle in for a TV show. I felt pretty at peace, even as a car chase roared on screen. Even if Fury didn’t like me, he at least tolerated me. I could live with that.


	10. Comfortable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes by late one night and you both take comfort in a quiet ritual.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I just (well, ‘just’ in the timeline of the story) had a chapter about taking care of Steve but I had some fragments and just craved. Tenderness. That’s all this is; a quiet moment of the intimacy of helping a partner unwind a little. Hope you enjoy <3

It was late on a brilliant Friday night in New York City and I was sitting inside, in my pajamas, on my couch. I had drifted off from playing a game and the sound from the TV was on low, just the ambient noise of a menu screen, as I got up to stretch and tried to figure out what I was going to do next. Half my usual entertainment was out and about, surely dazzling the masses at some charity something-or-other, while I plodded aimlessly around my apartment in fuzzy slippers, and tried not to eat the snacks I had promised would be waiting for him.

It was harder than it sounded. There was a _brand new_ bag just sitting on the counter, and Steve had promised to share, so he wouldn’t mind if I just took my portion first, right?

Heroically, I restrained myself, and threw a bag of popcorn into the microwave.

Naturally that’s when someone knocked on the door. I rolled my eyes at myself. “Someone,” because Steve had an uncanny knack for getting into my building without me letting him in. If I didn’t know any better I’d have assumed he did it on purpose just to watch me– oh who was I kidding; it was Steve, of course he did it on purpose just to watch me try to puzzle it out.

Front-security-cheater or not, I still opened the door for him. “Hey,” I said to the tired-looking man in a snazzy suit leaning against the wall next to my door.

His eyelids, starting to droop, blinked rapidly until he could focus on me. Stuck all night having to be social for a good cause? I felt a strong burst of sympathy and stepped back to let him in. “Long night?”

Steve smiled weakly but said nothing. He trudged past me, turned his back to the couch, and slowly fell backwards. The couch tilted, but didn’t break, and he let out a small sigh that might have been relief at that, or just plain relief at sitting down. It seemed more the latter when he remained as he was, slumped and mildly ruffled and completely immobile.

The popping sounds in the microwave slowed and I took out the bag before it could burn. I slowly wandered into the living room proper, trying to get a feel for his mood. Steve was leaning his head back and his eyes were shut, but he was frowning as the muscles in his neck visibly tightened and loosened. Tired, certainly, but _trying_ very hard to relax. Because of course he was.

I shook my head and dropped the popcorn bag on the coffee table. Facing his side, I put my hand on the back of the couch and my knee right next to his thigh. He didn’t so much as crack an eye, and he stopped unconsciously flexing his neck muscles. If I hadn’t known any better, I’d have thought he was close to sleeping. I did know better, though, and how he was somehow succeeding in forcing himself to relax didn’t extend quite so far to fool me.

I used the couch to support me as I swung up my other knee to rest on the cushion on his opposite side. Though I sat carefully, me straddling his lap did cause him to crack one eye open. I kept my gaze focused on his tie as I went about undoing it.

…Well. I tried to. I had undone a tie or two before but for some reason the damn thing kept tightening instead of loosening. And tightening and tightening and…surely I would unlock it any time now, and it wasn’t choking him yet, so I just frowned and kept working at it.

After a few seconds more Steve brought his hand up and I batted it away. I didn’t need _help_ taking off a _tie_. But then he let his head fall all the way back and his tongue lolled out and my startled laugh came out as a truly ugly snort. I leaned my forehead against his shoulder, breathing in faint cologne and cigar smoke and some sort of liquor, until I had my composure back.

When I sat up I feigned a smack at his chest, which only made him chuckle. His eyes, open now, shone with mischief but he let me work, and I eventually ( _finally_ ) got the damn thing off without taking a pair of scissors to it. I slid it out from his collar, but it was a really nice tie and I didn’t want to just throw it where it might fall down and get messed up.

I ended up looping it behind my own neck and letting the ends drape over my shoulders. With that safe for the moment, I pulled up his collar and went at the buttons of his nice, spotless shirt. Those came easier and I took it slow, popping each one fully, pulling the shirt apart bit by bit and exposing more and more of his white tank top, until I got to the bottom. Steve, who had been just staring at me with eyelids falling more and more, arced his hips so I could more easily pull his shirt out of his pants and finish the last of the line down his front.

I almost started pulling the shirt off his shoulders when I remembered the buttons at the end of his sleeves. Thankfully there were no cufflinks to contend with. I brought up one of his hands and held his knuckles to my lips as I unsnapped the button with just a few fingers. I did the exact same thing on the other side, and I finally slid the shirt off. With no more help from Steve, the big lug. But he looked a lot more naturally relaxed, even with the fancy slacks, and there was no way I was going after those without extra help from him.

Actually, I could do a little more. I undid his belt and slipped it off. _That_ I didn’t mind tossing across the room. And then there was his hair, neatly brushed and parted gently to the side. I ran my fingers through it and when Steve’s eyes fluttered shut and his jaw unclenched I did it again and again. Whatever product he had used was nigh undetectable and I kept running my hands through soft strands, occasionally pressing down and dragging my fingernails across his scalp. What few moans he made were quiet and his breathing relaxed. I kept at it until his hair looked a little messy– just enough to be _comfortable_ – and sat back.

He was half-asleep already. I tugged at the strap of his flimsy undershirt. “Come on,” I whispered. “Let’s get you to bed.”

I should have known the way he said, “Mm hmm,” was too easy, too peaceful, but I was taken completely off-guard when he suddenly stood– with his arms looped under me. I yelped and wrapped my legs around his waist. “I said _you_ ,” I told him as he walked. I wondered if it would ever not feel weird to be carried so easily.

“Just for a little while?” he asked even as he lay down and dragged me with him. Between his pleading voice and me being a sucker, I had no chance. Even though we both knew that ‘little’ was a fucking lie.

“Just for a little while,” I lied too, and shut my eyes.


	11. Terms of Endearment

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reasons for why being a couple is difficult #13546: thinking of cute couple nicknames when neither of you are all that cute. Especially when your partner already has a sweet one. Asshole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: I poke some fun, but I honestly think any nicknames shared between significant others are cute as they mean something to the people involved; I just had too much fun with thinking about how this particular couple would deal with some of them.

There was something in my eye.

“Are you–”

“Fine, I’m fine, got dust or–” When Steve started laughing so hard he shook under me I smacked his thigh. Lightly, but enough to get the point across. “Stop it!”

“I can’t believe you're trying to use the ‘dust’ excuse,” Steve said, still laughing, but much less at least.

I sat up (and made sure I stayed facing away from him). “It _is_! Dust or– or something; it’s making my eyes itch,” I said and rubbed my eyes vigorously.

“‘Something,’” Steve teased and leaned against me from behind, resting his heavy-ass chin on my shoulder. I put my hand up to hold his head in place while I shifted him to a more comfortable spot. “‘Something’ like tears, caused by emotion?”

I scoffed– and immediately had to sniffle. Damn it. “I don’t have emotion. I’m heartless.” Unless a fictional woman who was dying of a serious injury started calling her significant other ‘darling’ apparently, but it was an effective callback and a moving scene and Steve had held me closer so it was _understandable_.

“Heartless except for when you knock over a full coffee cup,” Steve said and handed me a tissue.

“That’s a _real_ tragedy.” I took the tissue and quickly wiped my eyes and blew my nose. “Thanks.”

“For what?” Steve asked innocently.

Asshole. “For helping with my allergies.”

“I thought it was dust.”

“Could be dust, could be allergies.”

“Can’t be emotions.”

I turned my body as best I could to press my face into him. “Now you’re getting it.”

He kissed my head. “I’ve been told I can be a quick study.”

“Can be.” I looked up at him. “When a shield isn’t involved.”

He rolled his eyes.

And pinched my side so suddenly I _jumped_.

“You dick!” I said and pinched him back. He did not jump, of course.

“Whatever you say Sweetheart,” he said and pulled me back down into a “hug.”

It was too much effort to keep fighting and, though I would never, ever, _ever_ admit it, Steve calling me ‘sweetheart’ made me soft. Every time. Even when he was being a sarcastic asshole (like that moment) (and sixty percent of his waking hours) the endearment was always sincere. It felt good.

And I…never called Steve anything other than his name. Or ‘dick.’ Or ‘asshole.’ Or…

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

Too late, I realized my face was scrunched up. I tried to smooth it out and be as neutral as possible. “Nothing…” ‘Sweetheart?’ Derivative. ‘Honey?’ A little too June Cleaver. ‘Baby?’ Could I pull that off so suddenly?

“Nothing,” I repeated lamely. He let go and sat up and I focused on straightening out my shirt like it was very important. “I just got distracted. Thinking too hard.”

“Ah.” He laid back and pulled me to rest against him again. “Let’s get you distracted with the end of the movie then, huh? I have a good feeling about it.”

I snuggled in. Pet names weren't mandatory in a relationship, but they were pleasant and worth consideration. There had to be _something_ out there nice enough to call Steve that didn’t make me feel stupid, and I needed to find one– preferably quickly. So I half-watched the movie, half-thought about my new issue. And if thinking about that kept me from having an allergic reaction to the end of the film, well, that was a bonus.

(Though I did, involuntarily, squeeze Steve’s hand at the reunion hug at the end.

Thankfully, he squeezed back and didn’t mention it.)

Pet names were _stupid_.

‘Babe’ and ‘baby’ felt weird.

‘Sweetheart’ would just be a cheap copycat move. ‘Sweetie’ was likewise too derivative and also a little too twee.

‘Honey’ was a no.

‘My love’ and ‘Love’ just seemed too dramatic and could you even say that to someone you hadn’t yet dated a full year?

‘Boo,’ no.

‘Boo bear,’ no, no, no.

‘Snickerdoodle.’ _Snickerdoodle._

When I got to ‘Snuggle bug’ I decided the internet was fucking with me and I closed out of all the tabs in disgust.

Maybe I needed to think of something more personal. Lists of generic couple nicknames were always going to be just that– generic– and with how self-conscious I was feeling about the whole thing, it was probably doomed from the start. I needed to think of my own. Somehow.

Steve. Steve. Steve…n. No; that was in reserve for if I was mad at him or something. Steve. Steeeev…ie? No. Maybe I could play off some distinguishing features. His body was a touchy subject sometimes so I didn’t want to go there. Blondie? That also sounded kind of negative…

I let my head fall on the desk.

“Are you okay?”

I sat up fast but it was just one of my co-workers. I sighed and faced forward again. “Just a headache,” I said and glared at my dark phone screen.

Pet names were _stupid_.

And yet…

“Could you pass me the salt, sweetheart?”

I grabbed the shaker and hesitated. This was the perfect time to test out something in response– he was distracted, I had an opening– but I didn’t have a _name_. ‘Okay sugar,’ ‘here you go angel,’ they still didn’t…feel right.

Steve looked at me. I panicked and shoved the container into his hand with a quick, “Here.”

“Um…thanks,” he said. He looked away but I didn’t even get to breathe before he put it down and turned his head back to stare at me. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine…” Dear? Darli– “Steve. I’m just tired.” And that was _not_ a lie; I was so tired of overthinking all of this nonsense.

“Okay,” he said. He wrapped an arm around me and let me lean against him. No judgment, no pressure to talk, it was really nice. And I couldn’t even give him one nice name in return.

Later, when Steve was in the bathroom, I opened some tabs back up and perused some of the less shitty lists. When he came back and started shuffling around I didn’t think much of it– he always got antsy when he sat for too long. However I realized a bit too late that he was suddenly

a) quiet, and

b)-ehind me.

“I have to admit, I don’t know that ‘pumpkin’ really suits anybody,” he said. Amused. _Very_ amused. And fond. But mostly amused.

That little shred of fondness was the only reason I didn’t immediately go into my room and curl up under my bed in humiliation for the next century. I swallowed, turned off the screen, and forced my voice as steady as I could. “Sneaky.”

“I wasn’t trying to be,” he said, in a softly apologetic tone and sat down next to me. He didn’t _sound_ like he was going to start making fun of me, but I felt pathetic nonetheless. I couldn’t look at him, couldn’t lean into the arm around me; I was just trying to find a way out of this situation where my boyfriend caught me looking up _pet names_ on the _internet_ because I hadn’t yet _used_ anything remotely _affectionate_ for–

“Hey,” followed by a nudge, made me lift my head. Steve was standing in front of me, holding out my jacket. “Let’s go for a walk.”

I stared at him for a second and, when he didn’t relent, I took my jacket warily. Normally he asked first and would go for a quick run if I wasn’t up for it. Were we really going to do this in public?

“Trust me,” Steve said and opened the door. “I know a place.”

‘A place’ was a subway ride away and _then_ a walk just inside the edge of a park. It was also very, very quiet, as few people passed us and I didn’t know what to say.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said and lightly moved his body against mine, just a little sway that skirted up my hip. “I’m sorry.”

I sighed. “It’s not your fault; I had it out,” I said. Maybe grumbled. “I’m not mad, I’m just…embarrassed.”

Steve was quiet for several moments and then put his arm around me. I leaned in, trying to emphasize the ‘not mad’ part even if I couldn’t get over myself long enough to act like it.

“Are you okay with me calling you sweetheart?”

I hadn’t expected that. Especially since I had gotten caught trying to give _him_ a cutesy nickname, it hadn’t occurred to me he would have thought I _didn’t_ like it. “Yeah,” I said. “It’s…nice.”

He bobbed his head. “Good. When I did it the first time, I wasn’t sure how it would go over. It was actually an accident– it just came out– but you didn’t seem to mind it and it felt…appropriate.”

I had to question the logic of Steve calling me or my heart “sweet” but that was beside the point I assumed he was trying to make. “Are you trying to tell me not to overthink this?”

“Sort of,” Steve said. He walked a few steps in front to turn and face me, still walking backwards when he said, “I like the way you say my name.”

I kept walking, but the more I thought about it the more I got confused by his very matter-of-fact statement, until I stopped and grabbed his jacket to make him do the same. “What?”

He ducked his head. I took his chin (gently) and lifted it back up. “You give me a neck-ache just looking at you when you do that,” I said. I sighed. “Look– you're not making fun of me, I’m not making fun of you, right? So just…tell me what you mean.”

He looked like he wanted to duck again but I hadn’t let go yet. He took my hand in one of his but he didn’t move it away while he looked around. He took my other hand and led me to a bench off to the side.

“I mean what I said.” Steve didn’t let go as we sat down, transferring all my fingers to just one of his hands and squeezing a little. “I like the way you say my name. Sometimes even hearing just “Steve” is one of the kindest endearments I get.”

“Goddammit you should get _more_ ,” I blurted out because settling for just his fucking _name_ was–

He cupped my cheek with his free hand and kissed me and I forgot why I was mad. For a few seconds, at least; then I pulled back, intending to brow-beat him into some self-respect. Okay, maybe that was not going to work, but I couldn’t let that fly. “ _Steve_ –”

“Yeah, just like that,” he said and nipped at my bottom lip, and I shut my eyes because if he was preying on my weakness like that _he_ could be the one keeping watch. “I like hearing it when you’re happy, relaxed…annoyed…”

Sweet moment over, I made sure the first thing I did upon opening my eyes was roll them. Steve chuckled but didn’t pull away, so neither did I. His smile was a little lopsided. We’d have to work on his (albeit excellent and effective) ways of dodging the issue. Later.

“I feel more like myself when I’m with you, and hearing my name is a reflection of that,” he said. “It means as much as any pet name, so don’t worry so much about it.”

I didn’t have much choice but to take his word for it. Though it was also very believable. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” I repeated and kissed him. He held me there a bit longer than I intended, but when we stopped and sat back like a couple of normal people just enjoying the mutual company, I was feeling a lot more relaxed. Steve looked likewise, leaning back with his long arms stretched out along the top of the bench. His chest was inviting, but I looked around and saw a small group come into view further down the path. Oh well; it had been nice while it lasted. And we could do way more back at ho–

Steve said my name and I looked at him. “Yeah?”

He seemed fairly serious. “I always assumed, if something went too far, I could ask you to stop,” he said and before I could say _of course_ , I wasn’t _that_ much of an asshole, he continued: “It’s the same with me.”

I blinked at him while my still-kiss-blissed brain tried to process the change in subject. When I remembered what brought all of this on– well, it was a nice sentiment, but I groaned. “I can’t believe I’m using one of my ‘don’t make fun of me’ cards on a list of names that included _Boo Bear_.”

Steve shook with quiet laughter. “Well,” he said with a full-on grin. “You’ll always be my Cuddle muffin.”

I smiled against my will. “Steve.”

“Buttercup.”

“Ste–”

“Pumpkin-spiced sweetheart?”

“Congratulations you are now single.”

“Aw but Angel Cakes–”

I put my finger on his lips but before I could pull out The Full Name treatment, my stomach grumbled _loudly_. I let my head fall forward. At least that wasn’t the most embarrassing thing that had happened that night, and we had gotten through the rest of it fine. “That’s _your_ fault, ‘ _Dumpling_.’”

Steve laughed and got up. “Well then,” he said and extended his hand into my field of vision. “Let’s go get some food then, Peachy Pie.”

I took the offer and let him help me up. “Sure thing Jelly Bean.”

“That almost rhymed,” Steve said as we set off, side by side.

“Is that a seal of approval?”

“No.”

I bumped against him. “Good, because I have my dignity to think of.”

He grinned at me. “Luckily for me I have no shame.”

“Of course not, _Captain_ ,” I said, drawing the title out like an exaggerated femme fatale. I said it mostly as a joke, but Steve’s laughter was a little high-pitched– not super out of range, but that, and the way he immediately flushed red and looked away was…interesting.

Maybe pet names weren't so bad after all.


	12. Followed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans are pretty awful sometimes. Steve is awfully wonderful. That doesn’t fix everything, but it can ease the sting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Warnings: Sexual harassment, stalking, POV downplaying an unpleasant event (more detail below)
> 
> A/N: I don’t really know where this came from. I was working on a different chapter but it was a little difficult, so I changed tracks to a no less difficult topic but I guess I just wanted to write a load of comfort. As I do. Spoilers for the chapter: POV character/Reader gets inappropriately touched while on the subway and then followed. It only takes up the first ¼ of the chapter and I don’t go in depth on it, but I do go further in on some of the feelings it engenders, and the POV character tries to downplay it at points. For the record I do disagree with that but I know plenty of people (including myself) have done the same thing while in that place. Anyways, there’s the warning, please take care of yourselves in all aspects, okay I love you bye bye for now <3

Something wasn’t right.

I didn’t know what it was. At first I shrugged it off as just being in a massive crowd of people– the subway at peak times was unpleasant for anybody with a sense of personal space, or working olfactory senses, or both– and I was always cranky when I had to deal with it.

But there was something different about today. It started as a feeling creeping up my back– not necessarily from something touching me there, just a sense that something was _off_. I tried to zero in on it and realized someone was pressing _very_ close against my side, and it felt like they were…moving. We were packed in pretty tight so it could have been the car itself, but it was such an unpleasant sensation it was making the hair on the back of my neck stand up like it was magnetized.

At the next stop I moved with some of the crowd and picked a different point to stand at. It was just as crowded but at least when we started traveling again I didn’t feel anybody moving in a weird way, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

Except after just a minute it started happening again. And I wasn’t paranoid, because it was _definitely_ somebody grinding on me. I felt frozen. I didn’t want to move and press my body any closer to whoever it was, and I didn’t want whoever it was to know that I _knew_. I tried to surreptitiously shift away but he followed me and then I really couldn’t move, shoved against someone else.

I glanced around but everyone around me was in their own head or met my look with a glare and I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t even tell which guy it was; I was surrounded by men and none of them were paying any particular attention to me. Except one was looking very intensely at the ground and…

I felt something on my leg. I looked down and saw a hand sliding towards my inner thigh, and matched the sleeve to the guy who was ducking his head down. He very carefully had his arm positioned in between two other people who did not notice _any_ of this, but his motive was more than clear to me.

It was hard to breathe. I needed to get out of there, maybe find a place to sit down and have a warm drink or something. I desperately needed to get away from whatever the fuck _this_ was. So when the train stopped again I pushed my way out and left the overcrowded car right into an overcrowded station. I hoped he would keep going on the train, somewhere else and far away from me, but when I started climbing the steps I looked back and saw him in the sea of people.

Even though I exited into the brisk air of near sunset I still didn’t feel like I could breathe very well. The crowd gave me a place to hide but it also provided him plenty of people to hide behind. I could hope he would get bored but I didn’t know he would for sure, and I didn’t know where to turn for help. I sure as hell was not leading him home.

Well…not to _my_ home certainly. As I passed some familiar streets though, I did realize I had one safe option to turn to. I used one last Hail Mary and rushed down the steps of a different subway line and got on another train that was far less busy, one that allowed me to sit down.

He sat across from me. He didn’t show any signs of animosity, no sign that he was fucking following me, even though by that point I knew he had to be. But he looked so goddamn calm about it I did question myself, wondering if I was overacting, if this was all a series of unfortunate coincidences.

I wanted it to be. Especially as I realized I didn’t know for sure whether or not I had a safe haven to run to. But wishes were horses and my barn was barren; I had only one choice left that I knew of. So after getting off, back up to the street, and realizing _he_ was keeping steady behind me, I took a few deep breaths, took out my phone, and made a call.

“Hey,” Steve said, his soothing voice running through my panicked body like a surprisingly warm wind on a fall day. Much like a quick breeze though, that warmth was gone too fast.

“This is going to sound really weird,” I said and tried to glance around like I was looking for him. The guy was even closer and I tried to suppress my flinch before I crossed the street with as many other people as I could get close to. “But are you home?”

“Yes,” Steve said, a little questioning lilt in his voice.

“Can I come over?” I asked. “I think I’m, um, in the neighborhood and I…uh…”

Steve was too smart or I was too transparent. “Are you safe?”

I swallowed and dropped my voice. “I…I don’t know. Can you t-”

I gasped when someone pressed up close to me and I jerked back, but it was just some lady who immediately said, “Oh, I’m sor-”

“It’s okay,” I said quickly and rushed ahead. Steve said my name. “Sorry, I’m just– jumpy. Can you text me the address again?”

“Tell me where you are; I’ll come get you,”

“No, I’m gonna keep moving and I don’t want to miss you,” I said. “Or– shit, never mind, maybe I shouldn’t lead him to–”

“No, you’re right with the first one. Stay on track,” Steve said. “And stay on the phone with me. What streets are you near?”

I looked at the coming cross streets and told him. “Good, you’re close,” he said. “Have you passed roadwork yet?”

“No,” I said and kept going. I didn’t want to look. Hopefully the guy was gone, but I didn’t even want to check. Instead I kept looking ahead, and at the next intersection I saw a lane blocked by cones. “Oh–now I see some. It’s on my side, on the right.”

“Great; you’re really close by,” he said. “At the next street, cross the road and turn right.”

He led me down a much less-populated street and yet I could still hear footsteps behind me. “Can’t wait to finally see your place,” I said, trying to distract myself from the horror movie I was trying to outpace. “I’m going to raid _your_ snacks for once.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Steve said, a little strain in his voice.

I sighed. “Are you coming to meet me?”

“…Maybe.”

“ _Steve_.”

“Well I need to let you in anyway.”

I rolled my eyes but I couldn’t be mad. Especially when I saw him turn a corner, phone still against his ear. He smiled at me and I smiled back, only to be fairly confused when he held his phone out like he was snapping a picture. He was also walking faster than I expected and I crashed into him, caught in one arm while he…took another photo.

I looked back to see the man had finally, _finally_ turned and started walking the other direction. I felt like I could collapse; suddenly my legs hurt and I was breathing heavy and I was fucking exhausted. I hugged Steve and didn’t even care we were in the middle of the sidewalk.

Steve then wrapped his arms around me and hugged tight enough to satisfy the itch in my mind that wanted to be safe. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” I said and nuzzled my face against his chest.

“Did he do anything to you?”

Suddenly, being on the street was not so great, even though the answer was ‘not much?’ except thinking about it made me sick, despite it being so small. “No,” I said, but I didn’t even sound convincing to myself.

Steve squeezed me a little tighter. “Come on; I owe you some snacks, right?”

“Yes, you do,” I said, even though the thought of eating was not great. Still, he wrapped an arm around me and led me the short way to his building. It was a little smaller than mine but looked really nice, classy. But it was also a walk-up.

“I’m on the fourth floor,” he said apologetically as he opened the door.

“I see now why I’ve never visited you,” I said as I started a slow climb. “A sixth sense about your crappy choice in housing has kept me away.”

“I don’t blame you,” Steve said, a few steps ahead of me. He hesitated and looked at me. “Do you want me to…give you a lift?”

I glared at him, like I had any pride (hah) and was insulted he’d even ask. Even though I was actually a little tempted. “No,” I said coolly, walked past him, and turned to ascend the next set.

“Do you want to race?” he said and went up halfway, waiting for me with a dumbass smile. The smile was a nice effort, but it didn’t quite take over his face. It was impressive though; I didn’t have enough energy to fake anything other than the ability to stand upright and move one foot in front of the other.

“You better have some good fucking snacks,” I said when I finally reached the third floor. I took a second to look up the next flight and then I just went for it. I wanted to take a nap or something, which was ridiculous; there were plenty of times in my life when I had been on my feet longer, walked longer, but right then I just felt so fucking _tired_.

“After a workout like that I’ll buy you dinner,” he said when we finally got to his floor, and he unlocked and opened his door for me.

I stepped in and looked around. The kitchen was barely bigger than mine but looked trendy and new; the living room was nice, spacious with a pretty fireplace and a couch that looked big enough to sink into. I tried to zero in on it but details escaped me; I still felt so…scattered. Puffy black couch. Square coffee table. Deep blue walls. Breathe, breathe, breathe.

“What do you think?” Steve said and put his hands on my shoulders. It was at that point I realized they were up by my ears and I forced them down– with his help.

“It’s really pretty, actually,” I said. I didn’t mention how sparse it was; instead I looked around for a place to pull myself together. “Can I use your bathroom?”

“Of course,” he said and gestured to a short hallway. “It’s on the left, across from the bedroom.”

“Thanks,” I said and slipped away so I could shut a door and slide my back down it. Sitting on the floor wasn’t comfortable and I wanted to be by Steve but I didn’t want to fall apart like this. The guy barely did anything, it was so small I had thought it could have been an accident, but _knowing_ that it wasn’t made me so…angry? Sad? I didn’t know what I was feeling but I wanted to yell and hit something and also hide for a year.

I settled for hiding for a few minutes. Then I left the bathroom and, upon realizing I was still holding it, dumped my bag on the side of the couch. After a second I also started to take my jacket off.

“Here,” Steve said and helped it off of me. He took it, and my bag, to a coat rack I hadn’t noticed, and hung my jacket next to his, and placed my bag by his shield.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted anything,” I said and sat on a stool at the breakfast bar.

“Not at all,” he said and came over to rest his hand on the back of my seat. His presence was nice, and it felt like he wanted to be close just like me. It was affirming and good to know I wasn’t the only one freaked out by the day. Stupid day had started so _good_ , and then…

“What did he do?”

I still didn’t know how to answer that. I didn’t really know what the answer even _was_. So I started at the beginning. “I was on the subway, and it was crowded…” What had made me get so freaked out? Had I noticed him before he was against me? “I don’t know– I realized a guy was…rubbing against me. I thought it was an accident, so I moved. And it happened again, and then– he grabbed my thigh and I got freaked out and took a random stop and he still followed me so I got on the line to make it here and he followed me and…”

And then I called Steve, who was currently holding me, even though nothing had happened and I was still so fucking mad _why_. “I’m sorry; I don’t know why I’m so–so upset!” But I couldn’t loosen my grip on his shoulders and he only held me closer.

“You have plenty of reason to be upset,” he said.

“Nothing _happened_!”

“Sweetheart you just told me you got felt up and stalked,” he said and, when he put it like that, yeah, it was _kind of_ right. But _still_.

But still nothing. I started crying and pushed my face into his chest. He was going to think I was such a wimp but I at least held fast against the audible part of it; I couldn’t stop the tears but I could swallow the sounds. Most of them. “I’m here,” Steve said softly, one strong arm behind my shoulders and his other hand cupping the back of my head. “You’re safe now.”

I stayed like that for a while, letting myself eke out some tears until they came less and less. They were almost dried when a loud buzzing noise made me jump. Steve cursed and turned his head to the door.

“Company?” I asked and rubbed my face.

“Dinner,” he said and let go. “I ordered from a Thai place down the street. I think you’ll really like it.”

“Sounds good,” I said and hopped off the stool. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

“I’ll tell you when it’s safe,” he said, but before I could leave his reach he held my face and kissed the skin under my eyes. I paused there for just a moment, but he had a delivery person to save from the weight of a super soldier appetite and I really didn’t want to see another living creature, so he went to grab his wallet and I went into the bathroom to splash myself with some cold water and try to feel more human.

I was still trying to wait out a red face when Steve knocked on the door. “Take your time, but everything’s set up,” he said and walked away. I gauged myself and found I actually was a little hungry. And when I stepped out and smelled the food, my appetite ramped up to something closer to normal.

“I know something that will make you feel a little better,” Steve said. Both his hands held loaded plates but he looked down at something he was manipulating with his foot and I followed his eye line down to the floor where he scooted a pair of fluffy bi-flag-colored slippers at me.

“Ohhh; nice,” I said and went over to the coat rack so I could take off my shoes and socks.

“I thought Clint meant them as a gag gift but they’re really comfortable,” Steve said. “And I just washed them.”

They were very nice. And very large. “Clint has no idea how big your feet are, does he?” I asked as I scooted across the floor in giant clouds.

“I pointed that out and he told me to take it as a compliment,” Steve said. Our plates were on the coffee table in front of the couch, and he actually had to pull the table closer _to_ the couch. It was then I realized he had actual space in his living room, and I couldn’t resist doing a little walk around.

“Is everything okay?” he asked and looked at the windows.

“I’m just marveling in the novelty of not having to shimmy through furniture,” I said and plopped down next to him. I didn’t, however, leave much space between us. My leg was pressed right against his and I left just enough room that we could eat without elbowing each other. But only just.

Steve didn’t question my clinginess, didn’t even mention it. Instead he told me about his wonderfully boring day of filling out some paperwork in the morning and throwing his shield at Tony and Thor in the afternoon. That second part actually didn’t sound so boring, especially when he talked about accidentally knocking it off Tony’s (masked, of course) forehead.

“‘Accidentally,’ huh?” I said and leaned back, fully stuffed to the brim with really good food.

Steve slid his arm along the couch cushion behind me and leaned in closer. “It really was,” he said and gave me big fake innocent eyes for the ages. “You gotta believe me sweetheart.”

It was too much and I laughed out loud. His smile was so pleased, so proud, I had to lean in and kiss it. He reciprocated immediately, and when I twisted to face him he helped me slide comfortably into his lap, with one arm bracing my upper back and his other hand resting on my hip.

Now this…this was soothing. Safe in strong arms, in a warm apartment as night covered everything outside, with hands placed gently and which would never, ever hurt me. I felt that, knew it like I knew myself and it sent a chill through my body that made me grip him tighter. The idea of trusting anyone like that was terrifying and thrilling and so fucking overwhelming that I stopped kissing him and rested my head against his shoulder so I could breathe.

“You’re tired,” Steve said softly, running his hand through my hair.

“No ‘m not,” I mumbled. Barely intelligible even to myself so, okay, maybe I was. I stood before he could try to lift me, but I leaned against him when he slipped his arm around my waist for support. I didn’t even have to open my eyes, he led me so certainly.

“You’re taking the bed,” Steve said as we walked. “But do you want me to sleep on the couch?”

I snorted. He was so ridiculous sometimes, even when I knew exactly where he was coming from. But when we got to the bed, I couldn’t think of a smart remark. I just stood next to him for a few moments, holding onto his shirt, staring at that dumb skinny modern bed frame that held a huge mattress, and mentally blanking out until I finally managed, “Stay?”

“Of course,” he said and I let go so we could both strip down for bed.

Steve made a good effort of finding something for me to wear but I just got to my underwear and slipped into the chilly sheets. I exaggerated a little shiver and said, “Get in here and warm me up,” I said. After a moment of thought I added, “No romo.”

“No _what_?” he asked but did as he was told, sliding over to me and pulling me in so close I could rest my head on his chest.

“No romo. Like ‘no homo’ but no romance.”

“Oh.” He ran his hand up and down my back, and then suddenly stopped. “Is this all right?”

“It’s fine,” I said without thinking. He resumed, but because I had a tendency to ruin anything that was perfectly fine, I did think about it. I thought about a day that a single man and lifetime of issues had managed to thoroughly fuck up…and I thought about the night that a single man had managed to make not so bad.

“This might be a stupid question,” Steve started. “But…how are you feeling?”

“I’m…” I swallowed. “I think I’m okay.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” And that felt good and true. How I would feel when I had to leave in the morning might be something else, but at that moment, wrapped up with Steve, in his space, in his bed, I still felt…fine. His hand ran up and down my back and my hand ran up and down his chest, not exact mirrors in motion but soothingly similar nonetheless. “I was…thinking.”

Steve let the silence settle for a moment before he said, “You can tell me. If you want. You don’t have to– but you can.”

I thought about that. Chewed on it. Trusting him was one thing; telling him how much I trusted him was something else. I was scared and excited and I cared about him so damned much and I wanted him to know. It felt right for him to know, because even if he didn’t really get how big it was to me, even if it someday blew up in my face, I was already in too deep; in too deep and happy to be there. “Normally if I don’t want to be touched and I’m with someone, I…wear something. Or I keep to my side of the bed,” I said softly, still running my hand over his chest. “It feels like extra protection. I always thought it was just a thing I’d always have, no matter my partner, but right now I…don’t. I don’t need it; I don’t need that with _you_. I feel like I could be completely naked with you and you wouldn’t touch me if I didn’t want you to.”

Steve’s arm around me tightened comfortingly. “Of course I wouldn’t.”

“There’s not always an ‘of course,’” I said and shut my eyes. I was tired, but I needed him to know. “But I feel it now. With you.”

He didn’t say anything at first. He turned slightly to wrap both arms around me in a hug. “You’ll always be safe with me,” he murmured and squeezed momentarily. “I _can_ promise that.”

“I believe you. I _trust_ you, so much,” I said. I kissed his shoulder. “Thank you. For staying with me, and not going after him– even though I know you probably wanted to.”

“I did,” he admitted. “But I wanted to make sure you were okay more.”

I took a satisfyingly deep breath. Sleep was pulling hard. “You’re the best.”

“And you’re soft,” he said and gave me a gentle kiss. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell.”

“I know.” I smiled and let my body relax fully at last. “I trust you.”

I woke up on a bright Saturday morning with the sun behind me and Steve getting back into bed and curling around my front.

“Mornin’,” I mumbled and put my arm around him.

“Sorry; I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said and kissed my head.

“It’s okay,” I said, even though it was still fairly early for a weekend. I snuggled into him. “Did you go for a run?”

“Went for a run, got an errand done,” Steve said. “I figured I’d wait until you woke up to do breakfast though. Are you hungry or do you want to go back to sleep?”

I thought about it. Although I still felt tired, I also felt very awake, unfortunately. That was the worst contradictory mood ever. “I think I’m up now.”

“Okay,” Steve said and sat up. He moved way too easily for how early it felt. Show off. “I stopped by a corner store and got you some things; they’re in the bathroom if you want to shower.”

“I get to shower _first_?” I said. _That_ made me get up.

Steve grinned. “Unless you want to share?”

I had to consider. I liked being by Steve, and yes, I did trust him in a way that would probably give me hives when I thought more about it, but ultimately I didn’t feel very sexy and I just wanted to get in and out. “Maybe another time.”

“Of course,” he said and gave me a quick kiss. I got out of bed, smiling way too much for a human being awake before seven am on a day off. When I got to the bathroom though the stuff for showering, toothbrush, toothpaste…they all looked very at home in a way that made something in my head go ‘ _hmmm_ ’. That went to ‘ _HMMMM_ ’ when I noticed a specialty item he definitely didn’t get from some local bodega, I didn’t care how nice his block looked.

I turned back across the short hall and stood in his doorway. Steve put his shirt down fast and asked, “Is everything all right?”

“You didn’t get all that stuff this morning.” I didn’t mean to call his bluff so directly but that was what came out. And sure enough he blinked a few times, and then turned red. “Steve?”

“I stay at your place often enough that I wanted to invite you over,” Steve said without looking at me. “And I wanted you to be comfortable when you came.”

And so he made sure he had toiletries exactly like what I had. That was so stupidly sweet it left me dumbfounded. I wanted to go over and kiss him just for that, but I was all too aware of the fact that I had not actually showered or brushed my teeth yet, and I didn’t want to punish him when he was being so nice. “That’s…so thoughtful. I’m actually going to have to leave you some hot water now.”

He laughed and motioned for me to ‘shoo’ so I scooted on back and got cleaned up and ready. My clothes were ‘meh’ but as I looked around the bathroom and saw _my_ body wash and _my_ toothbrush in _Steve’s_ home, I thought about how much better our next sleepover would be, when I was a touch less traumatized and a lot more prepared.

I came out to see Steve in the living area, leaning his back against the edge of the kitchen bar while he rifled through a newspaper. And he had…company. In the form of a very fine redhead who was currently playing with a knife behind him, looking utterly bored while he seemingly ignored her.

Not exactly what I expected but, okay, Natasha was nice, I could live with that. However Steve smiled at me brightly, quickly got a confused squint in his eyes, turned, and flinched so hard his paper went all over the place.

Well. At least it wasn’t just _my_ apartment she was good at getting into. And seeing Steve jump like that _did_ make me snort, even if I felt a little bad for it right after. I probably wouldn’t have handled that any better. But it was still funny to watch him jump at a figurative spider like I would jump at a real one.

“Natasha,” he said through gritted teeth and picked his paper back up. It was going to be hard to read, though, if he kept ripping all the pages.

“Good morning,” she said and smiled sweetly.

It was really hard to be mad at her when she took so much joy in being such a pain in the ass. “Morning Natasha,” I said and stood at the bar across from her. Steve came to stand on my other side, away from her, and I gave him a quick conciliatory kiss.

He looked at me as though wounded by betrayal. “You laughed.”

“It’s kind of your fault for surrounding yourself with assholes,” I said. He seemed to think about it and shook his head, scowling. That meant I was right and he knew it. Or so I assumed; he was smart, he should have at least known that by now.

“Good morning, Natasha,” he said, stilted but at least able to move his jaw. “What brings you here? Completely unannounced.”

She smirked. “I just wanted to stop by. Say hi. Maybe get some breakfast,” she said lazily, like there was nothing she’d rather be doing than annoying the shit out of Steve. I was _very_ lucky she showed no interest in him. Or me. That’d be a tough choice.

“Hm,” Steve said, still looking at her.

“I took care of our little problem,” Natasha said. “You could _pretend_ to be happy to see me.”

“‘Problem?’” I repeated and I looked between her, spinning a knife by the tip of the blade stuck in a cutting board, and Steve, his eyebrow raised in mild curiosity. They did not look one bit bothered, (Steve in fact looked a lot more relaxed), but. “Are you guys okay?”

Natasha smiled in that way that I could never tell if she was making fun of me or if she thought I was cute. Naturally I hoped it was the latter, but I doubted I would ever truly find out. Still, her voice had warmth to it when she said, “We’re just fine, so don’t worry your pretty little head about anything.”

The way she said ‘anything’ gave me pause. And then I thought of how Steve was being awful quiet, and the fact that all he did yesterday was take photos of that fucking creep and he never even tried to nag me into filing a police report and–

I tried to poke his side as hard as I could but I barely touched him before he scooted sideways. “How do you two feel about waffles?” he asked blithely and walked around the other side of the counter, around Natasha, to rummage through take-out menus.

“Belgian waffles, from the same place as last time,” Natasha said and looked at me with a knowing smirk. “They’re very good, and close enough to come hot.”

I took a seat at the counter and rested my head in my arms, trying to look annoyed with Steve going behind my back. In truth…I was sort of glad not to have to worry about it. And if I didn’t ask, I could just pretend Natasha taught the guy a very stern, mildly violent lesson and he was surely going to turn his life around now and never bother anyone ever again. “Do they have good coffee?”

“It’s pretty fantastic,” Steve said and smiled at me so brightly I could feel my face lightening up despite myself.

“Disgusting,” Natasha said in the flattest tone I’d ever heard.

“I know. My reputation is in tatters,” I said, still looking at Steve. “I hope you’re happy.”

“Absolutely ecstatic,” Steve said in a mild tone, but that smirk was too expressive even as he picked up his phone to place the order. “I hope you don’t mind.”

I was pretty sure I never would. But what I did in response was take a rolled up ball of receipt paper and toss it at his head. He caught it easily and flicked it back quickly, hitting me right in the nose. He then took his phone and the menu and got the heck out of range, giving me a cheeky little asshole grin.

“Horrible,” Natasha said.

“He’s the absolute worst,” I agreed, ignoring her implication that I was just as bad. He was truly terrible; throwing things at me, mocking me in front of our much cooler friend, after having taken care of me after a really bad day, and now easing up into giving me a smile that could make me want to melt into a puddle. It was honestly awful just how deep I was in for him. And awfully perfect in how right it felt.


	13. Fan Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team Bonding at Steve’s expense…or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo this chapter was going to be a lot longer but I had to…not cut it in half, exactly, but I got an idea for the next chapter and I had to cut off about a thousand words from the end here that are going to fit better there. I’m hoping the next chapter will come soon because I am quite excited for it but life is life and I can make no promises. For now, though, please enjoy some ‘meeting the family’ time with a few of the canon crew. There’s a little awkwardness but no real second-hand embarrassment (I am a big weenie and can’t handle it).

I stared up at Stark Tower with all the grace of a tourist and all the dread of someone standing around a party they weren't invited to. I didn’t have any real reason to feel that way seeing as I was invited. Explicitly. Insistently. Because Steve had forgotten his notebook at my apartment, the doofus, and it had Very Important Training Things written in it and he needed it right away could I please bring it to the tower he promised to make it up to me.

While, yes, he certainly _was_ going to make it up to me…did I really have to go in? Maybe he could meet me at that coffee shop just down the block, a much more anonymous place where I could barely interact with other human beings and I wouldn’t have to be so…so…

“Are you trying to get up the energy to deal with Stark?”

I didn’t jump, even though Phil had a way of sneaking up that was jarring for a man so nicely dressed all the time. “Is there enough energy in the world to deal with Stark?” I asked him, mostly joking. And, because I wanted to be polite, I added, “Hi Phil. That’s a really nice tie.”

“It’s nice to see you. And thank you,” he said and smoothed over the silk tie that was shades of dark blue with a sort of arabesque-like print on it. It really was nice. “Are you looking for Captain Rogers?”

“He asked me to drop something off,” I said. I took a deep breath and rolled my shoulders. “Okay, I’m ready. Stark’ll be bored of me in about five seconds and it will be fine.”

“You’ll have to tell me that trick sometime,” Phil said and motioned me to follow. I took after him like a baby duckling and the security at the door didn’t even look twice at me.

“I have no good quips. I am quipless,” I said. There was a brief moment where I had to stay back and wait for my turn to go through a scanner, but no one asked who I was or what business I had there. They just let me go through, right behind Phil, and I didn’t know if it was because I was obviously with him or because of something creepier.

“Tony has Jarvis keep a dossier of those allowed into the tower and what their clearance is,” Phil said as we took an elevator up.

“Oh,” I said. Of course it would be the slightly creepier thing, but I’d had some interaction with Jarvis at the holiday party and he was pretty cool for an AI. “Hi Jarvis.”

Jarvis greeted me very politely, and not by full name this time, so it was nice he had remembered. “Captain Rogers is on the training level, but Agent Romanov will be there to greet you. Agent Coulson, what level would you like?”

“The same,” he said. “Thank you Jarvis.”

At least I wasn’t weird for being polite to the robot. Or maybe Phil was trying to make me feel better about saying hi to him. It? Fuck; I needed to stop overthinking this. Thankfully our floor came soon and Natasha was standing there, reading a tablet. She did a little double-take and greeted Phil first, then: “You’re braving Tony? Must be a special occasion.”

I really needed to find a better way to react to Tony if people were acting like he was the bane of my existence. I really didn’t hate him; he was just…a lot. “Steve left something at my place that is, apparently, Very Important and that he needs quickly enough that I had to come all the way here to give to him.”

“Hm,” Natasha said. “Well he’s training with Tony right now.”

I sighed. Of course.

“I can take you to the gym,” she continued on like of _course_ I could just go…drop in. Interesting.

“Can I?” I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. She turned and gestured for me to follow.

We ended up in a…well, a room that looked like a two-story gym put together in one level. Maybe even three stories. Off (far off) to the side was a typical work-out area with treadmills and weights, but most of the floor was wide open– and, aside from some spectators, currently occupied and in use by one Steve Rogers and one Tony Stark. In gym clothes and a metal suit, respectively.

Natasha leaned in close enough to raise the hair on the back of my neck. “Special training– Tony can’t use his weapons. If they were going all out, we’d be up there.”

She pointed up at a glass panel on the wall where the second story might be. An observation room, I guessed. And though the visceral sight of Steve being unarmed against _the_ Iron Man suit didn’t make me feel very comfortable, the knowledge that Steve wasn’t going to get blasted by lasers was something good, at least.

“Nice,” I said as I watched Steve roll away from a punch.

“Oh hey,” Clint said and waved. The rest of the peanut gallery also turned to look at us but before I could say hi, I saw Steve get behind Tony and try to grab him, only for Tony to slip away and hit Steve with what looked like a rock solid punch. I flinched, but Steve acted like it was a tiny swat and did a (admittedly very cool) back flip to where he could pick up his shield before Tony could hit him again.

I sighed and tried to pretend like this wasn’t fazing me at all. “You guys don’t fuck around.”

“It gets easier the more you watch,” Pepper said sympathetically.

Maybe that was my problem. Not seeing Steve in actual danger was great for my nerves but here I was, wincing at almost everything when he was just training– with a friend, no less. That was my issue to deal with later, though, and I took my eyes off of them for a second to smile politely. “Hi Pepper, Maria, Clint; good to see you again.”

Maria nodded absently and stayed focused on the fight, Pepper welcomed me warmly, and Clint grinned and mocked a bow. “M’lady.”

“If you get a fedora I’m asking Natasha for a hit pricing list,” I said. Maria actually did a double-take at that– oops– but Pepper snorted into her hand and quickly coughed to cover it up.

“Free,” Natasha said seriously. “It would be free.”

“What is he…” murmured by Phil made me tune back in to the fight. Or ‘fight.’ Fake fight, between friends, one of whom would get yelled at by Pepper if he did anything too damaging and knew it. That did make me feel a little better.

What did not make me feel better was seeing Tony try to fly up, only for Steve to leap straight up to grab onto his arm and get taken for a ride. His legs dangled awfully close to the flames shooting out of the feet of the suit but somehow Steve got a good angle or good leverage or good _something_ because he lifted his body slightly with that grip, made himself drop hard enough to force Iron Man into careening off course, and _aimed_ him back at the ground.

But Steve flipped off, grabbed his shield, threw it at Iron Man, who hit it back, and then Steve did a _backflip_ and knocked it back at him with his _feet_. Tony did not have the chance to deflect it properly and it bounced off his face by the edge and into Steve’s waiting hands. One more hit with the broad side of the shield had Tony on his back on the ground and in a flash Steve stood on his chest, shield attached to his arm, but completely unthreatening. He just looked down at Tony like he was…waiting for a white flag.

Suddenly I didn’t feel uncomfortable watching Steve so much as I felt uncomfortable watching Steve with a good portion of his friends around. I swallowed. Maybe I…needed to watch him train more often. It was certainly a lot better than watching him nearly get mangled by a mad scientist reject stomping around a city via someone’s terrible cell phone. A _lot_ better.

The Iron Man visor flipped up and Tony squeaked, “Where did _that_ come from?!”

Steve shrugged like it was nothing and stood up, holding out a hand that Tony grudgingly accepted. “We’ve gotta stop for a second.”

“Why is that–” Tony looked at us, looked at _me_ , and his eyes narrowed. God, did even Tony think I hated him? Before I could attempt damage control though, he glowered at Steve and said, “Oh, I see, showing off for the girlfriend? That’s what that was?”

I froze, because why would Steve have to show off for me, someone impressed merely by the way he lifted the end of my couch without complaint so I could vacuum under it, but Steve replied with, “Like you never have.”

I…put the journal over the lower half of my face, of which I suddenly had no control. Why it was suddenly turned into a smile I truly could _not_ explain. Down face; _down_.

“Good job Steve, it worked,” Natasha, my former friend, current arch nemesis, said loudly, cutting into whatever squabbling Steve and Tony were into.

“Oh my god Natasha I take back any nice thing I ever thought about you _ever_ ,” I said, not moving the book even though Steve, smiling _smugly_ , of _course_ , was coming to collect it.

“You're just mad you can’t price a hit on _my_ life,” she said, smirking.

“Exactly,” I grumbled even though that was a lie and I still owed her majorly, but I managed to regain control over my central nervous system just as Steve arrived and plucked the notebook out of my hands.

“Hi,” he said, with a flushed face and proud grin that was re-weakening my resolve just moments after I had gotten it back. Damn him. At least the others were preoccupied by their own conversation once Tony got to them, and I breathed.

“Hi,” I said and smiled back, albeit with a lot more reserve than before. “That was pretty cool.” He deserved that much, at least.

“Thanks,” he said and shifted, but I took one look at his sweat-soaked shirt and stepped back.

“I’m glad to see you too but if you try to hug me when you’re all sweaty and I have no change of clothes, I’m going to dump you on the spot,” I said.

His smile grew bigger, but he didn’t try to cross that line, thankfully, because that was as matter-of-fact as I got. “Understood,” he said and waved the book. “Thanks again, by the way.”

“You're welcome. For the record, I didn’t look, but try not to leave your super secret training manual lying around my house again or else I’m going to draw dicks all over it,” I said.

Of course I said that during a lull in the conversation and Tony said, “I might actually read them then.”

Sadly, I had no other book to hide my face in. Luckily, thankfully, Phil came to my rescue yet again when he cleared his throat and said, “What _is_ in that notebook that’s so important yet can be left lying around an unsecured apartment?”

“Um…nothing _that_ bad,” Steve said. And then he looked bashfully apologetic. I scoffed and turned to Phil to commiserate but he– he cleared his throat and his expression–

“Oh my god,” I blurted out and Phil looked at me. “Don’t fall for that; he’s a bastard,” I said and looked at Steve, who was already cracking. “ _You_. Stop manipulating your friends!”

He out and out grinned. “Sorry Phil,” he said and held up his book. “It won’t happen again.”

Phil sighed with the express knowledge that it would absolutely happen again. Since nobody else would be any help I looked at Natasha for my commiserating buddy and tried to ignore the fact that Pepper was hiding a smile in her hands.

“He’s _your_ boyfriend,” Natasha said with a pointed look at me, cementing the fact that I really needed to make friends with Maria.

“God help me,” I said and rolled my eyes to the sky. I needed at least one other of me to keep him in line, so _that_ was never gonna happen.

“Is ‘bastard’ the cool new romantic endearment these days?” Tony asked. “I’m not up on the new love language I guess.”

Given the speaker, I looked at Pepper for my commiserating buddy. She took her hand down but shook her head. “There’s no helping that one.”

“Hey!”

Steve put his hand on my arm but before I could tell him I really did not want a big gross hug, he jerked his face towards the door, away from his friends who treated words like they were tennis balls and everyone playing was a shade of Serena or Venus. I led the way, and once we were just far enough out of their immediate area Steve asked in a quiet voice, “Are you all right?”

“Aside from embarrassing myself in front of your friends? Dandy,” I said at a similar volume and took a deep breath.

Steve held my upper arm and squeezed reassuringly. “You’re holding your own just fine,” he said. “But if you need to tap out just let me know. I can be a pretty good target.”

I smiled a little at that. “You’re supposed to leave the shield at work.”

He shrugged, but just as he opened his mouth he shut it again and looked over as the crowd started to move towards the door. Except maybe not, I realized with a sinking feeling as Tony stopped in front of us with Pepper.

“So Cap told you about dinner tonight?” he asked.

I stared at him as I tried to start my brain for a response. Alas, it made a halfhearted revving sound and immediately died. “What?”

“What Tony _means_ is that we’re having our group dinner tonight,” Pepper said, ever the adult in the room, and we both shifted to the side for Maria and Phil to leave. I suddenly wanted very badly to be tagging along with them, even as Pepper smiled very kindly and said, “We’d love to have you join us.”

Suddenly my brain roared to life– group dinners were a thing, a way to forcefully socialize the Avengers and Avengers-adjacent so that everybody could get along and so Bruce knew at least their names and saw the interior of a room that wasn’t his lab. So, that was okay. What was suddenly _not_ okay was the _very suspicious timing_ of said dinner. Steve knew the schedule and he just _happened_ to leave his dumb book at my apartment and he just _had_ to have it back _right_ in the evening?

“Oh, I don’t want to crash your dinner,” I said. Steve was in SO much trouble and I couldn’t even glare at him right then because that would be _rude_ and I was a lot of things but I was not _rude_ to people offering me free food.

Steve opened his mouth, but Pepper was faster. “You aren’t crashing, we’re inviting you,” she said, thankfully, because it wasn’t Steve’s house and it would have been entirely too awkward to accept on only his insistence. But Pepper seemed very sincere in her invitation, and…it probably _was_ in my best interest to make nice with Steve’s friends.

“That’d be nice, then,” I said after a requisite amount of making Steve squirm uncomfortably. “Thank you.”

They walked ahead of us, Tony leading with inane, animated babble that Pepper took in very patiently while Clint and Natasha followed from a distance and leaned into each other to have a more quiet conversation. Steve didn’t move so neither did I, and as soon as everyone was out the door Steve immediately said, “I swear I didn’t plan this.”

“Hmmmm,” I said, because I wasn’t a dummy, and Steve _absolutely_ was not one, but he looked painfully sincere.

“Really,” he insisted and put his hand on my arm. “Yes I wanted to invite you to one of these dinners, but I would ask you on a day we both felt up to it. You know I wouldn’t throw you into the deep end.”

I had to admit that was true. Steve liked to tease but he was always considerate of my social anxieties. That and he was always willing to play decoy if I needed it. That presented a new problem, however. “Hey,” I said and reached out to hold his cheek. He was a little damp still, but I tolerated it for the sake of holding his attention. “If _you’re_ not up to it then I’ll bow out. We can always try again some other time.”

“No, it’s all right,” he said and held my hand so he could turn his face to kiss my palm. I shuddered a little and he smiled knowingly. “I feel good. This’ll be fun, I promise.”

“If you say so.” I hoped he was right.

It was something. I hadn’t really prepared to be in such a social situation, with people I still needed to cement a good impression on, but one of the nicest things about Tony was that he had a good selection of alcohol with which to help soothe my nerves. Nicer still was that there were plenty of people assembled who did most of the talking (Tony, Darcy, and Clint piping up as an instigator) and I could mostly slip into the background.

I still worried about every word I said, every time someone even glanced at me, but then there was that very nice drink making sure I didn’t get _too_ stressed out. That, and…Steve slipping his hand into mine under the table, giving me something to literally hold onto. It was good. I was succeeding at this whole ‘being social’ thing _and_ I was having an excellent dinner that I didn’t have to pay for. It truly was win-win.

So when the dinner was over and everyone moved into the living room for drinks and lounging, I went along with. I had drunk enough to feel a little more comfortable (than maybe I should have) and when gentle fun started being poked at Steve…well…

I cupped my hand around his ear and leaned up to murmur, “Tap me if you need out.”

He turned a big smile at me as I sat back down and he shook his head, but he squeezed my hand.

“Secrets!” Tony said, slightly drunk.

“Secrets!” Darcy parroted, actually drunk.

“Secrets,” I said solemnly and took a drink, very much _not_ drunk enough but certainly nervous for whatever those two were doing. Thankfully Darcy had the attention span of the truly inebriated and started talking with (mostly at) Maria and Clint.

“Gonna share with the class?” Tony said, still looking at me.

“Nope,” I said, popping the end of the word for emphasis.

“You are mean.”

“It’s one of my best traits,” I said, and smiled when Jane laughed and Bruce snorted before he could catch himself. Steve squeezed my hand. I could do this. I could _socialize_. …I would probably not do any socializing for like, a week after this, but it was worth it.

Tony scowled, but leaned in and said, “What if I bribed you?”

“Oh Tony,” Pepper said. Poor lady.

“Nah, I’m good thanks,” I said. Not that Tony would miss any money, but he was mostly a stranger, and even entertaining the idea seemed weird.

“Aw come on! Dessert? Good booze?”

Steve cleared his throat and got his frowny face on. “Tony–”

“What if I bought you a membership for his fan club?”

I choked on my drink as a record scratch sounded in my head so hard it reverberated. I stared at Tony, the one man with, apparently, all the secrets of the universe. “Steve has a _fan club_?”

Steve made a little choking sound of his own and, through gritted teeth, “ _Tony_ …”

I couldn’t be bothered to make him shut up. So many new possibilities, new ways of irritating the living shit out of Steve, suddenly lay before me. Of _course_ Captain America would have a fan club, how could I not have looked into that before?

Tony, my new best friend, grinned and dug around in the top drawer of the side table next to him and brought out a shiny magazine that he waved around too much for me to get a good look at. “Feast your eyes on–” Tony suddenly squawked when Steve lunged forward, grabbed the booklet, and rolled it up.

“You,” I said, staring at the Holy Grail. Or maybe the Dead Sea Scrolls were the better comparison, because I wanted very badly to read every word in that document. “You have a fan club.”

Steve said my name in a sigh. “It’s not like I set it u–”

“You have a _fan club_!” I reached for the booklet and he immediately pulled it away from me. “Are there decoder rings? And Ovaltine?”

“Aw, you spoiled it,” he said with an exasperated smile and a sarcastic roll of his eyes, and pulled it out of reach when I tried to get at it again.

“Lemme see!”

“No; you’re just going to make fun of me.”

“Oh. Oh Steve.” I sat up and looked as serious as I could. “I can’t believe you think I won't make fun of you anyway. I thought you _knew_ me.”

His face was _so_ flat it was almost hilarious all on its own. “Is that supposed to make me want to give this to you?”

“Mmmmmayyyyyyybe,” I said and leaned against him. And tried to snatch it from him again.

“Your reflexes need work.”

“Oh come on!” I tried climbing over him to get at it but he kept me down with one arm and held the book up with the other. I reached but he was too damn big. “I’m already an unofficial member of your fan club! I just want my membership pin!”

He sighed my name in exasperation and Clint was laughing somewhere behind us but I no longer cared for what his friends thought of me; there was too much at stake here. I straddled his lap as serious and business-like as I could make it and frowned at him. “Wouldn’t _you_ want to be a member of _my_ fan club if I had one?”

“Sweetheart, I’m already the president of it,” he said and I had to take a moment.

“Wow. _Wow._ ” Tony sounded suitably stunned. “When did Rogers get _smooth_?”

A good question, but I wasn’t about to ruin the moment. “Aw,” I said and hugged him. And tried to steal the book _again with no results_. “How do you keep doing that?!”

He laughed and kissed me but didn’t let up. “Sweetheart, I hate to tell you this, but you are _not fast_.”

“Ugh!” I melted against him.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Phil said, sipping his drink with a quiet dignity that was somehow, against the laws of nature, _not_ ruined by the next words out of his mouth. Those being: “Everything in there is overpriced and of poor quality.”

I gasped, feeling even more delighted by this turn of events. “It’s a racket!” I said and Steve groaned.

“Please don’t encourage her,” he said to Phil.

“Gothenburg,” Phil said and Steve’s face went _white_.

“Whoa…” I knew a landmine when I saw it. “What’s Gothenburg?”

“A city in Sweden,” Phil said, taking up his paper.

“What happened in Gothenburg?” I asked my new _new_ best friend and slid off Steve back onto the couch.

“Wow look at the time you have to work tomorrow,” Steve said and stood up.

“You didn’t even _pretend_ to look at a clock,” Clint said.

“Bad form Rogers,” Tony said and crunched on some chips.

“Hmm.” I tapped my lips a few times and Steve sat back down warily. “Steve did something really stupid in Gothenburg, didn’t he?”

Phil looked up and seemed to think about it for a few seconds (probably evaluating how much he could tell me) before he eventually said, “Yes.”

“Yeah, never mind then; I don’t want to know,” I said and patted Steve’s thigh.

“You…don’t?” Steve asked, like this was a trap.

“Nope!” I smiled at him. Even without baring teeth, I felt a little sharp. “I already heard more than I ever wanted to about your trip to Milan.”

“Ooo, with the kaiju?!” Clint said excitedly and then ducked behind the couch when Steve shot him _such_ a glare.

“Yes, with the giant ooze-dinosaur-thing,” I said and Steve whipped his head to me. It was a little satisfying to see the pure panic.

“You said you don’t watch the news when I’m away,” he said.

“I don’t, but it’s all my co-workers wanted to talk about when it happened,” I said. “Ooohhhh, all those videos of you getting smashed into a building…”

His shoulders slumped a little, and he stammered, but how he was going to justify himself I had no idea, especially considering: “Also, trying to run headfirst _at_ the thing immediately _after_ you had gotten smashed into said building, and getting smashed into _another_ building.”

He looked at me, a mix of pleading and sad and ‘surely you can forgive me’ that he somehow never knew he portrayed, but I didn’t mind it so much this time.

I held out my hand, smiled, and motioned for him to hand over the goods.

His jaw dropped. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“In the span of ways for me to not be so upset, you’ve got to admit this is easy mode. Now…give me the book,” I said sweetly and opened and shut my fist a few times for emphasis.

Steve scowled at me and slapped the book onto my open palm. Clint burst out laughing.

“Can you come over for dinner every night?” Darcy asked and, well, that was flattering. I avoided the indirect compliment (and having to tell her that I was never really interesting, tonight was a lucky fluke) by immediately digging into the catalogue.

“Holy shit,” I said and almost recoiled at a _fountain_ on the first page. There was a velvet seat cushion and car covers and– “This is “ _Skymall_ ,” just Captain America themed!”

“Do you want any of it? All of it?” Tony asked, and for anything else that might have been generous, but the more I looked the more it felt like a threat. A car ornament, collectable coin, a truly hideous bag that no self-respecting human would ever wear, let alone for $59.99…

“No. In fact, I’m almost regretting looking at any of it,” I said even as I turned the page. It was a trainwreck. An amazing, gross, rich-people-lite train wreck.

“Serves you right,” Steve grumbled.

“At least it’s just Captain America bullshit,” I said, shut the awful thing, and patted his shoulder. “Could be worse. They could have the rights to your likeness.”

“We locked that down very fast,” Pepper said and Phil nodded his firm agreement.

That made me smile. It was really nice to know Steve had some truly good people watching his back, even if he didn’t seem to realize it sometimes. I was a little disappointed, not being able to find one interesting thing that I could maybe harangue him over, but it was still hilarious to know there was a Captain America fan club with terrible merchandising and that was nice to have in my back pocket.

Tony came over to Steve to steal back his book of crap and Steve immediately turned on him, getting into a…not a fight, but they were very involved in some sort of debate/one-upmanship that relied too much on inside jokes to be interesting to me, so I scooted away to get out of it. I inadvertently got closer to Pepper and Jane, but they were in their own conversation, as was the grouping of Darcy, Natasha, and Phil, and I just sat and was social by osmosis.

Or not, as Jane and Pepper turned their bodies slightly to include me. I smiled at them. “Sorry; I didn’t mean to interrupt.”

“You’re not; we’re just commiserating,” Pepper said and smiled. “So you saw the Milan fight?”

“Bits and pieces.” I looked at Jane, unsure, and decided to err on the side of safe assumptions. “Me and Steve are on the down low but some of my co-workers know we’re friends and they thought it was _really cool_ to see the Avengers fighting goo-zilla. Thankfully it was after the weekend when the fight happened and I knew Steve was okay, but…”

“Ugh, that’s awful,” Jane said. “I was biting my nails down to nothing watching it.”

“Yeah, I do my best not to,” I said. “Not because– not because I don’t _care_ , but because I can’t really enjoy it like people who just seem to think everyone is bullet-proof.”

“I tell myself I’m not going to and then I do, every time.” Pepper shook her head. “How do you keep yourself away from it?”

“The depressing but very real knowledge that I can do absolutely nothing about it if shit went south,” I said. “And the fact that Steve knows much better than me how to handle those situations. Just because I would panic and freak the hell out and probably get squashed flat doesn’t mean he’s going to.”

Despite me trying to lean on the assumed competency of Steve and his team, the air around us felt kind of heavy; heavy enough to make me almost squirm. I was _not_ going to be the kind of dinner guest that left my host in a bad mood. “I mean, if I’m not at work and I have to talk to a stranger on the _phone_? That’s hell. But Steve gets an unexpected call and he just picks it up and starts talking no problem. Super human I am _telling_ you.”

It startled a laugh out of both Jane and Pepper. Steve shot me a fond but ‘are you kidding’ eyebrow raise and I lifted my drink at him. He shook his head. “I thought the phone was invented so you could _talk_ to people,” he said as he moved over to me, sliding his arm back behind me in the same smooth motion.

“I’m not gonna take that from a man who uses more emojis than I do,” I scoffed and took a sip.

“You’re lying; Cap doesn’t know what emojis are,” Tony said stubbornly, like he just wasn’t willing to believe it. I rolled my eyes.

“Oh my god, they roll their eyes in harmony,” Clint said.

“I told you they’re disgusting,” Natasha said and threw a chip at me.

“Aw, thank you for sharing,” I said, ate it, and then washed it down with the rest of my drink. Tony held up his bottle but I waved my hand. “Thanks but I do have to work tomorrow.”

“You’re no fun,” Tony said and topped off his glass before handing the bottle to Phil.

“Don’t I know it,” I said and looked longingly at the bottle of ambrosia. Damn my distaste for having to work with a hangover. Damn my pride for not wanting to call out sick due to a hangover. Damn–

“You know you’ll regret it,” Steve said and smiled knowingly at me.

“Yeah, yeah; I already turned it down. Damn responsibility,” I said and sighed heavily as I checked the time. “I should go.”

“All right,” Steve said and stood up first so he could give me a hand off the couch. While I made the (admittedly short) rounds to say goodbye, Steve went and got my jacket and waited for me by the door, giving me a perfect chance to get away relatively quickly. His friends were nice and I liked them fine but my social battery was so drained I honestly considered if it would be more taxing to take the subway or get a cab.

“I’ll take you home,” Steve said, bringing up a third and unexpected option.

“I thought you were staying here tonight,” I said as he shrugged on his own jacket and got in the elevator with me.

“I can come back,” he said. He cocked a little grin at me. “I’m not bound to the tower, you know.”

“You’d need to grow your hair out for that, Rapunzel.” I reached out to lightly touch the hairs at the nape of his neck. He squirmed and I dropped my hand. “But I’ll take the ride, thanks. Less dealing with people.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. If I’m gonna spend my limited socialization on anything I’d rather do it on meeting your friends.” I waved my hand. “They’re nice. I’m just me.”

“There’s nothing wrong with you,” he said. “Thanks for bringing the book. I sincerely did need it.”

I rolled my eyes, but I would never know for sure whether or not it was _that_ important. “I wasn’t joking about drawing dicks on it next time you need it that bad.”

He tried to pinch his mouth in a scowl but his grin was too fierce and took over his face. “Fair enough, I guess. If I just leave it lying around and don’t ask for it will it end up illustrated?”

“Nah, only if I end up put out by it,” I said and stepped off the elevator with him into a parking garage. “I’m very lazy and selfish, I’ll have you know.”

“I see,” Steve said as though we were having a very serious conversation. “So lazy and selfish you traveled to Manhattan after work just to drop off something I asked for.”

“And look at me now, too lazy to get home by myself so I steal you away from your friends.” I took the helmet he held out. “Super selfish.”

“Right.” he chuckled and helped me put it on. “Sure.”

Before I could retort, he flipped the visor down. I retaliated by squeezing too hard all the ride home, but if it was a punishment he sure didn’t act like it. Oh well– I had never been very good at retribution and I wasn’t about to start now. It was too much work.


	14. Trust Issues

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve can generally be trusted to take care of himself. Generally. But even when he’s reckless, there’s always someone there to watch his back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter picks up almost immediately after the last one. I thought that would make it easy, but I ran into a little problem. That problem being…apparently when you change just one little bit of canon, it’s actually harder to fit it in with all the rest you haven’t changed. Or at least, that’s how I’m finding this. Anyway, I warned in “Lunch Buddy” that I very slightly modified how “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” went and you’ll find more about that in here. Hopefully it makes enough sense. As the story is told from a civilian viewpoint I’m not going to be able to put in all the nitty-gritty, and in fact I might have gone overboard on the info in this chapter, but it made for interesting conversations. While I honestly never expected to put as much into the Reader and Natasha friendship as I have, I’m really enjoying it. Anyway, sorry this note is getting kind of long; I just wanted to add that while this story may seem to be developing a plot thread I have a lot of vignettes yet to go that have nothing to do with it, so don’t expect payoff any time soon ;) Please enjoy! ♥

The next day I was on a short lunch break and took a moment to bother Steve from afar.

Me: So K stopped by  
Steve: I haven’t even had time to go on any missions!  
Me: Shush  
Me: I know  
Me: ANYWAY  
Me: She apologized  
Me: She now assumes  
Me: (Correctly)  
Me: That I don’t want to hear about you getting hurt  
Me: So she pointed me at a video compilation  
Me: Of anytime someone has caught you getting out of a bad spot  
Me: And otherwise being a competent badass  
Steve: That’s nice of her  
Me: It is  
Me: It made me feel better  
Steve: :)  
Me: And then I started overthinking a little  
Steve: Oh no  
Me: I know  
Me: BUT  
Me: I know you’re competent  
Me: I know you’re good at what you do  
Me: And I just want to make sure you know  
Me: That I know that.  
Me: That I’m proud of you and I trust you  
Me: That I trust you to do your best and come home  
Steve: I do know  
Steve: I also know you worry  
Steve: And even though I don’t like making you worry  
Steve: -it’s reasonable  
Steve: I would worry if it was you  
Me: Okay good  
Steve: Be careful of your emotion allergies  
Steve: Don’t want you to get hives  
Me: Why do you think this is happening over text?  
Steve: I see  
Steve: There must be a lot of sneezing  
Steve: Gesundheit  
Me: Thank you  
Steve: No no, thank YOU  
Steve: Because this is evidence  
Steve: And I’m keeping it forever

I had to think, because cursing at him just didn’t feel right in the context of the conversation.

Me: Okay  
Me: But only for you

I felt a little more than satisfied that it took him several seconds to respond.

Steve: You’re making ME soft now  
Me: You’re softer than you think  
Me: It’s one of those things we have in common  
Steve: Just between us?  
Me: Just between us  
Steve: Good  
Steve: Now I’ve got to go put that training book to use  
Me: Kick ass, take names, stay safe, etc  
Steve: I’ll tell you all about it when I come over to steal your chips tonight  
Me: I’ll wrestle you for them  
Steve: I hope so

The winking face he added made me put my head down in my arms and shake with silent laughter. How dare he do that to me at _work_. However…I was very much looking forward to seeing if I could make him put any of that ‘training’ to use. It wouldn’t hurt to have tangible reassurance that he could take care of himself, right?

Someone had to look out for Steve in the day-to-day, and if I had to test his skills with food and sex, well, that was a sacrifice I was willing to make.

* * *

Unfortunately, Steve could only keep himself out of trouble for so long.

Steve: So don’t be mad

I rubbed my forehead. Steve had been unreachable for a week and a half and _this_ was the first thing I saw from him at 9:56 on a Tuesday morning. At least it was him texting and not someone else. However…

Me: Are you in the hospital  
Steve: No  
Steve: Actually technically yes  
Steve: But I’m not being admitted  
Steve: Just getting checked up

I had too many simultaneous responses to that and absolutely none of them were nice.

Steve: There’s a difference, before you ask  
Me: Cute that you think I was going to ask

I looked up at my computer, saw the pile of emails I had yet to go through, and sighed.

Me: Do you want me to come by?  
Steve: No  
Steve: I’ll be out soon  
Steve: And then I’m going to go home and take a nap  
Me: Good plan

At least I could work without guilt. I was just going to get buried later if I tried to skip out on this mess now. As much as I didn’t like not being able to be there for Steve, I still had my own shit to take care of.

Me: Are Sam and Natasha okay?  
Steve: They’re fine  
Steve: Watching me like hawks  
Steve: Or falcons, I guess  
Me: And spiders?  
Steve: Eight eyes can see a lot  
Me: …Let’s stop talking about that  
Steve: Yes, let’s

I was about to get back to work, however I took a second to open up a new message just to Sam and Natasha.

Me: I’m glad you guys are okay  
Me: Also you’re my favorites

I sent some hearts to seal the deal.

Sam: Don’t worry, we’ll see him home  
Natasha: And then YOU can deal with him

I snorted. I was actually looking forward to it.

Steve: What are you texting them  
Me: Hush and let me talk to some actual adults

My computer chimed _three_ times in quick succession and I let out a groan of frustration that came out a little manically strangled. Of all the fucking days…

Me: I’m sorry  
Me: I gotta get back to work  
Steve: Of course  
Steve: Text me later?  
Steve: I’m off duty for a few days  
Steve: I’m going to be bored  
Me: Maybe if you’re feeling up to it later I can stop by?  
Me: I can bring you dinner or something  
Steve: That would be great  
Steve: I’ll order something in for us  
Me: We’ll see if you feel up to it  
Me: I’ll text you later  
Steve: Later

He sent me a heart and I sent him back a few, plus two more than I sent Sam and Natasha. It wasn’t enough, but it would do for the time being, and I tried to direct my desire to run across the city to visit him into getting some shit done.

* * *

I showed up at Steve’s building just in time to almost get smacked in the face by the door slamming open. Natasha looked just as surprised to see me as I felt surprised I didn’t get knocked flat, so apparently her impeccable timing was subconscious. The woman could do no wrong.

“Thanks,” I said and held the edge of the door.

Her face held a real straight line of annoyance to it, and she visibly tried to make herself look a little kinder. The frown was, oddly enough, an improvement. “I left the door unlocked for you.”

I nodded, feeling a little awkward to be thanking her again so soon. “Were you here all day?”

She huffed and narrowed her eyes. “I’d have killed him if I stayed _that_ long,” she muttered darkly, like she meant it. She moved away from the door and said, “Good luck,” before she started walking away.

“Natasha,” I said instinctively before she got more than a few steps. She stopped, and I scrambled for what I wanted to say. “Thanks. For getting them home okay.”

She rolled her eyes but there was nothing negative when she said, “They did all right. Even Steve.”

“Yeah well from what I hear Sam is still new to covert stuff and Steve wouldn’t know ‘subtle’ if you plastered it on a sign and hit him in the face with it,” I said. “So: thanks.”

She stared at me a moment and then stepped towards me. “How much does he tell you about these…missions?” she said, dropping her voice.

“Pretty much nothing but that he’s going dark,” I said and shrugged when her eyes narrowed slightly. “And then I can’t really reach you or Sam either. It doesn’t take a genius to know you’re off together.”

“No, it doesn’t.” She glanced up at the building and then back at me. “If he does tell you anything, keep your head straight and try to talk some sense into him. Please.”

“I’ll…do my best.” Well if that wasn’t ominous. “I want him to be safe too. But you know Steve.”

“Unfortunately so. He owes me a bottle of something strong after today,” she said and stepped back.

“Get something nice. You know he’s good for it,” I said and was rewarded with a hint of a smile before she waved me off and went on her way. Those heels must have been quality not to break off with how hard her steps were. However I still had to deal with the source of her irritation. Selfishly, I hoped he wasn’t too bothered by whatever had gone down, but I rolled my shoulders, braced myself, and headed on up.

When I got to his door I knocked out of politeness. He didn’t answer so I asked, “Steve?” and when he still didn’t respond I felt a quick breeze of fear and opened the door. Steve, the asshole, was just sitting on his couch, one arm stretched across the back of it as he stared out the window at nothing. I breathed a sigh of relief and shut the door.

“Well don’t you look like a modern ‘Thinking Man,’” I said and was gratified when he snapped his head to me in surprise. Sue me; he deserved it when everyone was being so fucking cryptic and scary.

“When did you get here?” he asked and stood up. Slowly, I noticed. From the way he carried himself so carefully but didn’t limp, I had to guess that whatever injury he had was somewhere in his abdomen. Maybe his ribs? When he got closer though I saw the faint edges of two healing bruises on his cheek and temple, so whatever got him must have gotten him bodily.

“Literally a minute ago,” I said as he slid his arms around me. I hugged him back and tried to be mindful of his hurts, even though I wanted to squeeze and not let go. He was quiet and slow and it scared me more than maybe it should have, but I couldn’t help but worry. “I knocked, called your name, but you didn’t answer, so I came in.”

“Natasha must have left it unlocked. That’s nice of her,” he said absently and pulled back.

I squinted at him. “Did they find painkillers you can take?” I ran my fingers through his hair, pulling some of it away from his face. “You seem a little out of it.”

“Sorry, I’ve been…thinking.” He seemed to come back to earth, at least, and held my hand in his. He smiled and I almost forgot about my worry. “Thanks for coming all the way after work. I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” I said and leaned in to meet him halfway for a simple kiss. I squeezed his hand and led him back to the couch. “Sit down. Are you hungry?”

“I already ordered.” He sat down and pulled me with him. It almost served him right when I fell against his side and he winced, but even after I shot him a dirty look and tried to sit up, he stubbornly wrapped his arm around me and pulled me back in. The way he held me, though, was close and unyielding and there was something almost desperate about it, so I stayed.

I let him stew until after dinner, when we were back on the couch just sitting in silence. I cleared my throat and when he looked at me I asked him, “Where is your head at?”

He looked down at his lap, at the drink in his hand, over at the wall, and when he glanced back at me and saw me staring he put his glass on the table and rubbed his face. “Am I that bad?”

“You’ve been in outer space since I got here.” I put my cup on the table, just in case, but only ran my hand up and down his back in case he didn’t want to be crowded. “Did something happen?”

“Not really,” he said in a sigh and rolled his neck. He looked at me, frowning. Thoughtful. After a moment his mouth relaxed. “Actually…there’s something that’s been bothering me. Sam and Natasha think I’m crazy, but they also seem a little put off by-…and talking it out with you would be good. You’re unbiased.”

“I’m so unbiased that I have no idea what we’re even talking about,” I said.

Steve took my light tone well enough and sat up as he turned slightly to face me better. He didn’t look quite so pinched, in brow or lip, and I resolved myself to pay very close attention. Still, he said, “I doubt I’m supposed to be telling you a lot of what I’m going to be telling you.”

I mimed locking my lips with a key and then threw that imaginary key over my shoulder. He smiled briefly before he cleared his throat, and though he didn’t go back to looking anguished or distant, he was closer to a frown when he started speaking.

“Back when I first found out Hydra was rebuilding within S.H.I.E.L.D., I was in DC.” Steve looked at me. “You remember Insight?”

I had to think about it, but the Hydra thing gave me a clue. “The big flying gunships that were going to kill a ridiculous amount of people, right?”

Steve tilted his head slightly in affirmation. “That whole thing was how I met Sam, actually.” He smiled wryly. “One day I was trying to flirt with him in the park, and later that week I turned up to his house with Natasha, a kill squad practically on our heels.”

I squeezed his hand. It was over and done, but it still turned my stomach to think of that mess. He squeezed back, and kept a light hold on me. “More importantly,” he said and cleared his throat. “After that, when all three of us were trying to stop Insight, they sent an assassin after us. He was…terrifying.”

I tried to be as neutral as possible, but something that inspired such a dark tone of awe from Steve couldn’t be good. He was staring out at nothing again, eyes narrowed, like he was trying to solve an equation in his head. “He came out of nowhere; punched a hole in the roof of Sam’s car to make us crash, shot Natasha in the shoulder, and matched me hit-for-hit in hand-to-hand combat. And…more.”

How could there be _more_ from a guy who punched a hole in a _car_ and could stand up to _Steve_? “I thought you were the only super soldier,” I said slowly, feeling a little stupid.

“I was the only one they got the serum right on, but he _had_ to have it too,” Steve said. “I swear it was like fighting a mirror in some aspects. He was much more brutal, but it was so familiar, and that strength– Hydra was obsessed with getting the serum right, it makes sense they’d keep trying.”

“So…he’s…”

Steve slid his arm around me and gave me a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll get there.” He cleared his throat. “When we were fighting, he got the upper hand at one point; started pummeling me. He snarled something in Russian– one of my eardrums had blown out at that point, but I thought he said something like ‘give up.’ I don’t know exactly what I said, maybe ‘I could do this all day,’ or something stupid like that–”

“Of course you did,” I muttered, because of course Steve would snark at a fucking assassin who had a good shot at killing him.

“–And he stopped.”

I looked up at Steve, and he smiled without any humor to it. “Yeah, it surprised me too,” he said and rubbed his chin. “Took me a second to kick him off of me, but when I turned to face him he was just on guard. He didn’t move to hit me again. I still have no idea what happened– he wore goggles over his eyes and he had a mask on the lower half of his face. It was so unnerving. But then a news helicopter showed up and when I looked again he was gone. Maria barely got us out of there before the Strike team showed up.”

So there was an assassin out there built like Steve. Who had tried to kill Steve. Hopefully the next part would ease whatever nightmares would inevitably come out of that.

“I was on the last helicarrier trying to take it down. I was…injured,” he said, passing his hand over his side. I tried not to linger on that train of thought, and scooted closer to him.

“–one guy I missed, but just as he was about to take the shot the assassin showed up,” Steve was saying. “And the assassin took him out.”

“Took the Hydra guy out?” I asked. I thought I had only missed maybe a sentence but I found myself scrambling to figure out a polite way to ask him to repeat himself.

“Yes,” Steve said. “And then he just stood there, staring at me. But then the helicarrier started to go down, threw us both when it careened to one side. I landed pretty hard and I don’t really remember much. Snippets. Trying to hang onto the side. Falling. The assassin grabbing me, holding on…and then we both fell.”

Steve didn’t look or sound upset. He was actually quite matter-of-fact about what sounded like another near-death experience for him. I wished I could be like that. Even knowing this was past, that he was here and safe, it still shook something in me to think of all the times I could have lost him without even knowing him.

I didn’t realize how hard I was squeezing his hand until he brought it to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. I looked away from his slight smile and tried to let go, but he kept hold and I (loosely, gently,) wrapped my fingers back around his hand.

“I woke up in the hospital, with Sam waiting for me,” Steve said and leaned back against the couch. “When Natasha came around we were able to put together some details. Apparently the assassin got me out of the water, onto the shore, and waited for someone to show up.”

“Sounds like he bailed on Hydra pretty hard.”

“And for no reason. They were set to win at that point,” Steve said and narrowed his eyes at the wall. “He risked himself to get me out of danger, and I still have no idea why. If I was out of the way…his life would be a lot easier.”

Steve was quiet. I fidgeted. “He was _in_ Hydra, right? Maybe he saw the writing on the wall.”

“There’s more to it than that,” Steve said. “We haven’t found out who he is, but that’s because who he was has been…scrubbed away. Natasha calls him ‘The Winter Soldier,’ and he’s like a living legend as far as spies and assassins go. Nobody knows much about him, but we’ve pieced together that Hydra captured him years ago, experimented on him with their attempts at a serum, used him to perfect their brainwashing techniques–”

“ _Brainwashing_?”

“–And kept him in cryogenic storage in between high-level assassinations they needed carried out,” Steve said like that wasn’t a list of the most horrifying things ever. Well, he was an expert on how monstrous Hydra was. Suddenly I understood his aggressive need to punch them in the face; _I_ wanted to put on a suit and punch them in the face. On behalf of a man who beat up my boyfriend, no less.

“Are you okay?” Steve asked. He was frowning and squeezed my shoulder and I bucked up almost immediately; it felt wrong to have him so concerned with comforting me when I could still see the bruises fading on his face.

“How did he get out of the brainwashing?” I asked. “He didn’t kill you so I’m assuming he’s…better?”

That seemed wrong to say, but Steve lightened up a little. “We had a solid lead on one of the people who might have been able to answer that; the man who oversaw the whole thing. But the Soldier got to him first.” Steve frowned again. “Ka– the man was dead and everything potentially relevant was destroyed. There wasn’t much left; a couple of computers scraped clean and smashed, and the smoldering remains of a leather-bound book.”

“It’s been like that for months,” Steve said. “He’s taking down Hydra and we’re always one step behind. We get sent on missions when there’s word of a potential cell, or location still in use, but he always gets there before we can, burns everything down, and kills anyone still there. Sometimes we show up just hours after he’s cleared house. It was only this last time we arrived before he had a chance to destroy everything.”

I looked him over. “Ah.” I had a bad feeling for where this part of the story was going.

“We _needed_ someone alive,” Steve said defensively. “And computers that weren't scrap. So I goaded him into a fight while Nat and Sam took care of the rest.”

“How did they get you out of the fight?”

“They didn’t. He stopped.”

“He realized what you were doing?”

“He knew pretty quick, but I didn’t let him get away once I had him engaged,” Steve said. “And when I stopped, he stopped.”

“Wait, so you stopped fir–” I pinched the bridge of my nose and sighed. “I’m starting to get why Natasha is so frustrated with you.”

“She thinks I’m an idiot and that I’m letting my guard down,” he said, absently stroking my shoulder. “Do you agree?”

“No…not necessarily; I–…” I looked at him and found him already staring at me. I tried to collect my thoughts. “I think you have good instincts, and I think there are a lot of things I don’t know…so no, I don’t necessarily agree with her. I know you’re smart, Steve. I said I trust you to take care of yourself and I meant it.” I tried for a smile. “And I trust Natasha and Sam to look for your blind spots.”

He let out a tiny laugh. “Playing both sides?”

“Sort of, I guess,” I said and slid my arm between his back and the couch to wrap it around his middle. “The guy needs help but who knows how willing he’s going to be to take it. I don’t think it’s bad you’re trying to find out more. But I also understand why Natasha and Sam aren’t fully on board. I might be the same way if your safety was in my hands. So I’m sorry she’s giving you such a hard time about it, but I get that too.”

“I thought if anyone would understand, Na-” Steve started and then stopped so fast he winced and slammed his hand to his mouth before darting his eyes at me.

“Did you literally bite your tongue?”

He shrugged but adjusted himself and cleared his throat. I wondered how long it would take him to realize I could take a hint, but after a few seconds of him looking guilty I said, “Want me to kiss it better?”

He snorted but finally turned a smile on me. “I wouldn’t say no,” he murmured and looked from my lips to my eyes.

“But would you say yes?” I asked and tilted his chin up with one finger.

“Enthusiastically so,” he said and leaned in.

There was much enthusiasm at first, but Steve’s waning energy was almost comical in how fast he went from happy participant to treating a make-out like it was his last set at the gym. When he missed my mouth and tried to cover by kissing the edge of my chin, like he _totally_ meant to do that, I almost had to bite my own tongue to keep from laughing. “Let’s go to bed,” I said and stood up, taking his hand and pulling until he salvaged enough energy to get up.

We were undressed, in bed, and I had even managed to set an extra early alarm before Steve, starting to drift off, snuggled into me and grumbled, “You tricked me.”

“If you thought ‘let’s go to bed’ meant anything other than ‘let’s get some rest so you can heal up,’ then that’s on you,” I said. I gave him a kiss though and said, “Good night, Steve.”

For all his bluster, he barely mumbled a response before he was out quicker than the lamp I flicked off.

* * *

The next day I was heading off for work (in a different shirt I had thankfully forgotten at Steve’s), when I ran into Natasha again. This time it was much less literal and also not a surprise– she had called earlier to let Steve know she was coming over and I was trying to duck out before she got there. Apparently her way of warning Steve though was to call and suddenly show up, as I barely turned the corner when I saw her standing on the sidewalk a little down the block, leaning against a _very_ sleek car.

“You like to get your browbeating done early,” I commented as she fell in step with me, and we marched on towards the coffee shop.

“We need a debriefing on record, and I can do it remotely,” she said as we took our place in line. “I’m guessing you had no luck either?”

“He is frustratingly stubborn,” I said. I sighed. “How bad is this guy?”

She said “Hmm,” and looked around. “I’ll drive you to work today.”

Well _that_ was comforting. Still, it was a nice offer and I paid for her coffee. I also gave her the name and address of my building as soon as we got in the car. Did she know all that already? I had no idea, and I was happier for it.

“He’s been brainwashed,” Natasha said, picking up right where we left off as she started driving. “He might be coming out of it. He might not be.” She flicked her eyes at me and then stared back at the road. “Even if he is coming out of it, that doesn’t make him safe. I understand that better than anyone.”

There was a story and I didn’t know the most tactful way to ask for it. I settled on wondering if I _should_ ask for it. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” I said.

“The man is dangerous to Steve. And, being that he is a highly effective assassin, he may be dangerous to _you_ by association.” Natasha glanced at me. “Have you ever thought about that?”

“Occasionally,” I said, trying very hard not to be flippant despite my very nature. “I know Steve worries about it a lot.”

She stared forward and was silent for a while. I didn’t know if that meant she didn’t want to talk about it or if she was–

“I was like him.”

–fortifying herself wait _what_?

She peeked at me a couple of times. “Steve did say you didn’t seem to know much about us,” she commented dryly.

“Everybody’s got a perspective. I’d rather develop mine on my own,” I said, trying not to stare too hard. “Is this something that was in that Hydra dump?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sorry, I…didn’t really read any of it,” I said and sat back fully against the seat. I did _not_ mention that was because I kept finding dumb memos and receipts for business expenses and got bored. Seeking juicy details wasn’t as much fun when you knew and cared about some of the people who were involved.

“I’m not expecting you to have,” she said. “For this, the details are unimportant. Just know I was almost exactly like him– made to be a weapon for someone else, subjected to techniques to make me more obedient. When I broke out of it I thought I was sound and strong, but looking back I don’t know why I was given a chance, much less allowed any sort of freedom. And I think the Soldier is even worse off– _if_ he’s truly broken the programming. Either he’s coming off many years of immense dehumanization, or he’s playing a long con, cleaning up after Hydra and ingratiating himself for whatever opportunity arises.”

Natasha’s voice went a little quiet when she said, “I almost hope he is. Because then I’ll kill him. No questions asked.”

Holy shit I was so out of my depth. I barely knew how to comfort people when their pets died or their partners broke up with them. But Natasha was good, Natasha was my _friend_ , and I hadn’t heard her like this before, so raw and…well, as open as spies got, I supposed. I wouldn’t leave her hanging. “If he is, and you kill him, that’s– that’s rough, but it makes sense,” I said. “And if not…you’ll help bring him around. But it’ll be hard and hurt, won’t it?”

Natasha parked and I had to look around to see that, yes, my work building was right there, and, yes, we were parked very illegally. But Natasha was so still it scared me.

I undid my seatbelt and had to fumble to keep the buckle from slamming against the window. Once that was settled I leaned over and (slowly, in case she had _any_ objections to the act,) wrapped my arms around her in a very awkward and lopsided hug.

It was obvious I didn’t give a lot of hugs and it was obvious she didn’t receive a lot of them, so at first I felt like a statue trying to hug a cactus, but after a few seconds she relaxed and even hugged me back. It made it worth the pain of the center armrest digging into my side.

“I’m glad you got out and I’m glad they brought you around,” I said and let go. “And I’m glad you’re there to look out for Steve. Even when he’s a headstrong jackass.”

“I’ll probably keep doing it, no matter how stupid he is,” Natasha said. She winked at me. “Don’t tell him that though.”

“Your secret’s safe with me.” I grabbed my bag and cracked the door. “ _Someone_ has to put the fear of God in him so he comes home safe.”

“I wouldn’t worry too much. Sam and I are there to watch his back. And he wants to come home,” she said softly. She smoothed her face back to normal and jerked her head at the building. “Now get out of here. Some of us don’t have to sit around a drab office building all day.”

“You know, nobody likes a braggart,” I said as I got out of the car.

“Have a nice day at work,” she sang before I slammed the door, and she took off.

I turned, looked at the building, and sighed. I felt so exhausted already that if I wasn’t there I might have called out. But I bucked up, took a step–

–and my phone chimed.

I rolled my eyes but made my way in even as I checked my messages, hoping Steve hadn’t mysteriously gotten more hurt in the half hour or so neither I nor Natasha had been there to supervise him.

Steve: I’m holding your shirt hostage  
Steve: So make sure you come back tonight  
Steve: Or else  
Steve: And bring some more clothes ;)

I rolled my eyes and tried to hide my face with my phone, but when I glanced around I didn’t see anyone from my floor. Good, because I absolutely could not have explained my ridiculous smile.

Me: You’re lucky you have a preternatural ability to find the best take out  
Steve: And I’m cute?  
Me: Yeah sure whatever  
Me: Pick something good for tonight  
Me: Feels like today is going to be long  
Steve: Okay  
Steve: Have a nice day at work  
Steve: I’ll see you later <3

I slipped my phone into my pocket just a few seconds before I hit my floor and had to walk out of the elevator for actual, real work. It wasn’t so bad though– I didn’t have to go head to head with secret assassins, or sneak through enemy bases, or do anything approaching even a light jog. And the person that did have to do those things was likely resting, would formulate a good plan for their team for the next time, and maybe help save someone in the process. I trusted Steve. And Natasha. And Sam. And that was good enough.


End file.
